


Reborn, Anew, Remember

by JellyClare



Series: From History We Rise - V and Johnny [1]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, Mental Instability, Post-Canon Fix-It, Romance, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 53,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyClare/pseuds/JellyClare
Summary: Seven and a half months have passed since their desperate raid at Arasaka Tower. Seven and half months since V said goodbye to legendary Rockerboy, Johnny Silverhand. Seven and a half months and she was still alive.And so was Johnny. Technically. He was asleep, in a coma that she hoped he’ll wake from. Passing the days in bed, in fights, in jobs, V is worried he never will.Until, one day, he does. But everything comes with a cost in Night City, even happy endings. Because Johnny, both her worse and better half at a time, wakes up and doesn’t remember her.
Relationships: Female V/River Ward, Johnny Silverhand & V, Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: From History We Rise - V and Johnny [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139705
Comments: 147
Kudos: 388





	1. seed is sown, I'm chippin' in

**Author's Note:**

> Hello.
> 
> I’ve never really written any fanfiction for any fandom, really, so I’m delighted to introduce my debut work lol. 
> 
> I’m utterly obsessed with Johnny Silverhand and his relationship with V throughout the game. This obsession eventually spawned this. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope someone out there will enjoy the first chapter of this sad, angsty, but, hopefully, sweet love story between these two characters. Of course, my V is already in a relationship with River at the start of this fic, so be forewarned. 
> 
> Enjoy!

They were back here, again.

_The Net. And they sat across from one another, staring deep into each other's eyes. Desperation in hers. Hope in his._

_“So, will it work or not, Alt?” Johnny Silverhand growled, slamming his fist onto the diner table._

_“It is not a complete guarantee. I do not know the state of your body as it appears to have been in a coma for the last fifty years. I can only ensure the transfer of your engram into this new chip.” Her voice was haunting as she loomed over them. Faceless. Pixels, really. Yet, in a woman’s body all the same. “But, in doing so, you will leave the Relic in V’s head.”_

_“God, Johnny. This feels too big a risk.” The person in question looked down at her clasped hands. “Just take my body. Like we planned.”_

_“We didn’t plan shit, V. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” She glanced up at him, a swift smoldering look full of something. Something intangible but warm._ So damned warm. _He knew she was thinking the same thing as he was. Pistis Sophia—when they swore they’d die for one another._

_“Besides, one way or another, I’m out of your head.” Unspoken words thrilled between them._ But only one way held the chance, small as it was, that they’d see each other again. _The Net flickered and pulsed. The booth below him disappeared and Johnny found himself on his feet, staring at the merc in the chair._

_Her face was as expressionless as ever, with only those beautiful silver eyes glinting. “This doesn’t—“_

_“Shut it. I’m not rewriting you. I’m not fucking staying. I’m not fucking letting you go with Alt. It’s that new chip or it’s beyond the Blackwall. Which one is it?”_

_“...Don’t ask me that. You know how I feel.”_

_“If it doesn’t work, it’ll fucking suck, Johnny. At least,_ here, _I know you might still exist.” It was an admission he would’ve never heard from her, once upon a time. Something sharp by his heart and he didn’t know if it was him or her._

_“Alt’s gonna absorb me, V. So, I wouldn’t say that.”_

_The Netrunner’s silence told them both all they needed to know. She couldn’t guarantee he’ll still be him, if he stepped over._

_They were risking everything. Nothing. V will still be dying. Johnny may still be disappearing. But..._

_“So there’s only one way. One chance.”_

_“Damn right.”_

_“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” V slammed her hands into the back of her chair. Johnny could’ve sworn tears sprouted in her eyes as she screamed but her gaze was dry, steely even, as she finally looked back up at him. “Do it.”_

_He knew what she meant. He heard the thought streaming through her mind as easily as he heard his._

Come back to me.

_Johnny’s throat felt tight and he knew he couldn’t trust his voice. That moment at his grave came flooding back. Her smile as she carved his name into the steel. Her bittersweet laugh as they remembered how far they’ve come._

_He hadn’t trusted his voice then, either. Hadn’t voiced that singular thought that’d run through his damned brain. And he wouldn’t now._

_“Be seeing you, V.”_

_Time, or whatever that flowed here, stood still as they stared at one another for the final time. Neither of them moved. Neither of them said a damned thing._

_The world pulsed. Flickered and returned._

_V was gone._

_“How we doing this, Alt?”_

_“To head into the new chip merely step across the bridge.”_

_“I thought that led deeper into cyberspace.”_

_“And now it means it’ll head into the new Relic. This is the Net, Johnny. It does not matter.”_

_He walked onto the bridge, towards the column of light beyond._ Warm. It felt...warm _. “How do I know it worked?”_

_“You’ll wake up, Johnny.”_

_“Right.” He looked up at his old output and the words spilled from him. “I’m sorry, Alt. Sorry, I couldn’t save you.”_

_“I am no longer the one that you knew, Johnny. But...thank you. I accept your apology.”_

_“Goodbye, Alt.”_

_He made to step into the light when, suddenly, a hand grasped his shoulder, pulling him around. She stood there. Hand falling and head down. V._

_She mirrored him. In his pants. In his boots. Even the light in her eyes. She WAS him. As he was her._

_“You changing your—“_

_He didn’t finish. Words, Alt,_ everything _, fell away as she touched him. Hooked her arms around his neck, gentle but firm, and pulled him close. Their foreheads pressed against one another, hotter than anything he’s felt since he woke up in her head._

_There they stood, suspended as the world fell apart. Fell away. And all that was left was the gleam in her eyes and the last thoughts of hers he will ever hear. So he, fucking finally, gave in._

_He swallowed V’s gasp as his lips pressed against hers. Feverish. Their touch. Him. Her. Them. Their minds melded as their mouths did. And he felt her, deeper than ever before. Felt her surprise melt into heat. Melt into..._

_She clung to him, more desperate than she’s ever been in her life. More desperate than when Jackie was dying in her arms. More desperate than her crawl through the landfill. More desperate than her fight against Smasher._

_Her chest stung. That pain lodged by her heart refused to abate. But she didn’t fucking care. Not while he was kissing her like she was his lifeline. Like he was hers. Even if both were ironically true because he was_ **kissing** _her._

_Harder than in his memories. Harder than with anyone else. His hands, metal and flesh, brushed her waist. Keeping her still. Keeping her anchored. And she hoped this would never end._

_But time_ did _flow. Even in this world of light and numbers. Of information._

_Of minds. Of choices._

_Of endings and beginnings._

_So, with one final whisper against her lips, he was gone._

_“‘Bye, V.”_

  
  
  
  



	2. we had to pay the price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chime rings in her ears and a notification flickers up in the corner of her vision. She rubs soap from her eyes and activates her holo. 
> 
> A single text appears. One of many others. 
> 
> ROGUE: No change.
> 
> Her chest aches at the words and she closes the message. 
> 
> She really needed a fucking drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, a quick update. It's a mopey chapter for sure but a bit longer than the last. Hope you guys enjoy.

JULY 15TH 2078 - 5:45 AM

“Johnny!” 

The name tore from her like gauze off an open wound and, damn, did she bleed. Heaving, she clasped her chest, trying to knead the familiar pain away. It took her a moment, as she blinked sleep from her eyes, to realize she wasn’t in her apartment. Wasn't in cyberspace. Wasn't with– 

_Right, River’s_.

Dream already fading, she glanced at the man curled up beside her. He breathed soundly, nearly snoring, but his arm curled around her waist as she sat up. 

“Babe?” He groaned, tightening his hold. “What happened? Nightmare?” 

“Mm, think so. Sorry.” She pressed a kiss to the side of his face and glanced at the time. 5:47 AM. The sky beyond the blinds was grey-blue and cloudless, promising bright, sunny weather. 

“Sleep some more, V. I know it’s your big day and all, but stay.” 

“I won’t be able to fall back asleep.” Her dream brushed the edge of her memories. _Heat. Lips. Johnny_. 

She should tell him. 

“‘Sides, an early start will do me some good. I’m gonna shower.” River emitted a satisfied sigh as she kissed him again, letting her go. It took her a moment, really, to leave the bed. She swung her legs off the side but her eyes never left him. He looked so peaceful, so content, and he had every reason to be.

His family was together–with Randy nearly fully recovered–and his P.I. gig was finally taking off. Who knew that Night City had so many loose ends, so many kidnapped and missing? V had to admit, he was good at it. Tracking down people, tracking down leads. Everything. And, if not for him, she might still be laying in bed and waiting to die. 

_Waiting for Johnny to finally open his eyes_. 

Instead, River pulled her out of the city and saved her life. Brought her through the desert to cities she’s never been to, to all sorts of hospitals and ripperdocs and netrunners. All of it. He’d been reluctant to leave his family behind, his life behind, but he did it for her _anyway_. Even while knowing she could be dead in half a year or less. She owed him everything, even if, in the end, things didn’t quite work out in his favor. 

They never did find her miracle cure. Three months in, she gave up in a fit of tears and rage and hopelessness that River quelled with his mouth. And, then, they went home.

Only, on the way back, to find a familiar monk wandering through a badlands town. V didn’t quite remember that session but she was sure, now, it had been her final meditation with the Zen master. After all, she had become lighter than ever. Calmer than ever. _Steadier_ than ever.

It wasn’t ‘till a week later, sitting at Tom’s Diner, that Judy pointed out the malfunctions had become rare. Each further and further apart. Each lasting seconds rather than minutes. Each hurting less and less. 

A scan at Vik’s showed that her brain, that her body, had begun repairing itself. The changes from the Relic were reversing. But not without costs. Her body had to be purged, thousands of eddies going down the drain as every bit of cyberware was removed. Her memory grew worse–moments became jumbled across time and some were even Silverhand’s. She never felt weaker, less herself, despite having once almost become Johnny. 

But then the sixth-month deadline arrived–only to pass her by like a speeding train.

So, here she was, feeling healthier than ever. With the man that hefted her across the finish line. With the small family that kept some semblance of happiness in her life. 

But V wasn’t in love with River, wasn’t his family. 

Sure, she _loved_ him. How could she not? He’d saved her life, stayed by her side, and comforted her. Comforted her _still_. Yet, the only thing she felt as she stared at him was tremendous guilt. Every fuck. Every kiss. Every look. Fucking _guilt_. 

**She should tell him.** _No. Not yet_. 

She slid to her feet, shaking the cobwebs from her limbs, and went to shower. Hot water searing her thoughts away, she stood hands against the wall, terrifyingly numb. God, she needed a drink. Maybe even a Johnny Silverhand. The idea produces a bitter laugh. 

She used to hate tequila. Hated most cocktails really, aside from gin and tonic. Used to hate cigs too, not that that has stopped her from taking a pull every now and then. V could see him now, giving her that shit-eating grin and gazing at her from above his aviators. " _Dick_." " _Cunt."_ She used to wish he'd shut up for once. 

Now? Sometimes, the silence terrified her. 

She hated that. Hated how weak she was.

The V from over a year ago would scoff in her face if she saw who she was now. 

A chime rings in her ears and a notification flickers up in the corner of her vision. She rubs soap from her eyes and activates her holo. 

A single text appears. One of many others. 

ROGUE 

**_No change_**.

Her chest aches at the words and she closes the message. 

She _really_ needed a fucking drink. 

* * *

  
  


V leaves River’s trailer at five from seven, kicking Jackie’s Arch into full throttle. The city was rousing, cars already flooding the streets as people headed to work. 

River had called today her “big day” and she hoped it would be an exhausting one too. When she’s tired, she can’t think. And when she can’t think, she didn’t need to get shit-faced. 

After the dust had settled down surrounding her prognosis, she leased a condo. It wasn’t too far from her old place but it had a better view of the ocean. Of golden skies and sea-foam waves. Of salt-choked air from a small balcony. She remembered chalking up excuses: that her lease was almost over and that she was tired of riding that damned elevator up to her place. 

River had accepted them with a smile but V could remember Judy’s frown over the box in her arms. The braindance editor had been the only one she told of Pistis Sophia, of watching that gorgeous sunset beside Johnny. 

She would’ve unpacked everything yesterday if she didn’t feel so damned contrite ‘bout River. He’d grabbed her hips, kissed her neck, and asked her to stay one more night. Who was she to refuse? 

**She should tell him.**

So, today _was_ her big day. After months of living and breathing with River, she was finally going to be by her lonesome again. 

She didn’t have to wake up every day ashamed or miserable, wishing that she was in love with the one person she was with or longing for the one person that just wouldn’t wake up. 

No. V was going to unpack and unwind and, if there was enough night left, kill some fucking scavs’. 

  
_‘Preem. Today was going to be fucking ‘preem_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. another cruel day is coming soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Air sailed from her chest as the detonation reached her, slamming her into the ground. Shrapnel rained—slicing and embedding. V felt her pants tear, felt metal and glass part her skin. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull and her eyelids fluttered. 
> 
> Blackness closed in on her, glitching her vision, and she grasped weakly at her head. Wetness seeped between her fingers. Fuck. 
> 
> “ Get up, V. ” 
> 
> “...Johnny?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, another update!
> 
> Who doesn't love a sad reunion? 
> 
> Enjoy!

JULY 16TH 2078 - 1:04 PM 

Night City’s midday smog glowed orange in the sky as V sped through Japantown. She looked quite the sight, helmetless and streaked crimson, as she dodged the cars careening towards her. 

Not their fault. 

She was, after all, on the wrong side of the road. 

Three cars weaved through the traffic after her, mowing down the stray civilian unlucky enough to get in their way. Japanese profanities streamed up against the wind and, for once, V didn’t miss her built-in translator. A bullet streaked past, tearing hair and leather, and she revved her Arch. 

She hadn’t thought they’d be chasing her still—utterly determined to run her down. She’d call it bad luck if she didn’t remember how many times she’s pissed the Tyger Claws off by now. The sun will set before she loses them. 

_Fucking hell. You guys asked for this!_

Her tires screeched and rubber burned hot against the pavement as she rocketed around the corner, grazing a screaming pedestrian, and across the bridge towards Watson. The lanes were thankfully empty as she peeled to a stop, hopping nimbly off the bike. Her mantis blades shot out, humming with electricity. 

The gang followed her lead and flew from their cars with cyberware-enhanced speed. Smart pistols and assault rifles sent bullets her way. She shot into the air. Time began to crawl as she hacked the closet Tyger Claw. He stumbled—weapon flying from his hands—and she swept downwards, blades out. 

His head flew with a spurt of blood, drenching her, but she was already moving. _Two_. Limbs dropped and gore splattered with each stroke of a blade. Bodies thrashed as they were shocked and V wrinkled her nose at the smell of burning flesh. _Three_. _Four_. _Five_. 

A round slammed into her abdomen. Waves of pain wracked her body.

“Lucky hit.” She hissed, tearing the shooter’s pistol away and burying the blade through her chest. _Six_. She flew above the remaining three’s heads and over the nearest Mizutani. Crouching, she huffed a MaxDoc and palmed her revolver, grip cool in her wet hands. 

Blood rolled down her cheek as she checked the chamber. _Full_. 

_‘PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit, PONPON shit!’_

“What the fu—”

* * *

**ROGUE AMENDIARES**

* * *

“You have the best timing, Rogue.” She growled into her holo, whipping her gun in front of her and loosing a shot. It slammed into one of the Claws’ and he pitched forward, head smoking. _Seven._ His partner spat a curse at her and expelled lead into the car. The front tires flattened, dropping her cover and leaving her head exposed. 

“I assume you mean bad.” 

“If you count ‘getting me killed’ as bad, then yes.” V threw herself backward as the engine caught on fire. Smoke filled the air and, in the far distance, sirens began to cry. She had to finish this. The last two sailed over the burning car, katanas in hand, and she dodged to the side, slowing time. 

She fired a round at the smoking engine and watched as orange sparks cascaded over the Tyger Claws. 

“That’d——be unfortuna——seeing how——I have——news.” 

_BOOM_! The explosion ripped across the bridge, disintegrating the thugs into a spray of blood and chunks. _Eight and nine_.

Then, time righted itself. 

Air sailed from her chest as the detonation reached her, slamming her into the ground. Shrapnel rained—slicing and embedding. V felt her pants tear, felt metal and glass part her skin. Pain blossomed at the back of her skull and her eyelids fluttered. 

Blackness closed in on her, glitching her vision, and she grasped weakly at her head. Wetness seeped between her fingers. _Fuck_. 

“ _Get up, V._ ” 

“...Johnny?”

* * *

The screen went black—V’s face blinking from existence—and Rogue squeezed her eyes shut. “Shit.” 

“Who the fuck you calling anyway?” Smoke swirled around him as Johnny Silverhand exhaled. He should have looked ridiculous half-propped against the window. Instead, with a freshly-lit cigarette balanced between his fingers, he still assumed his trademark Rockerboy flare. But an attitude didn’t really cover shit, especially from the woman who has known him for years. 

Rogue saw the angles and the points of his frame beneath the otherwise shapeless hospital gown. She’s never seen him so lanky. 

Nor so well-groomed.

His hair had been trimmed ‘till the locks brushed his ears and his beard had been shaved close to the skin. She wondered who did that for him—been a while since she’s seen him look so young. So vulnerable, not that the word particularly applied to the Night City legend. But still... 

Fifty years on ice and seven months in a coma will do that to a man, she supposed. 

“Well?” He snapped, uncomfortable under her sharp scrutiny. “Gone deaf in your old age?” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Rogue rolled her eyes and plucked the smoke from his fingers, taking a sharp draw. “I told you. V. I think she’s in some deep shit.” 

“And you keep repeating that name like it’s supposed to mean anything.” Johnny’s arms folded over his chest. “I barely know what the fuck is happening.”

“You’re joking, right? It was one thing for you to ask me about the date but, _V_? Johnny, don’t play games.” 

“I. Don’t. Know. Who. That. Is.” He enunciated, bearing his teeth. “First, you tell me fifty years have passed since I, what, died? And now you’re being cryptic about whoever the fuck V is. Just spit it out.”

“ _Fifty years_? Just what the hell do you last remember?” The question shattered his aggression like a hammer. His eyes shuttered.

He slid to the floor, rubbing his face. With a slow blink, she joined him, handing back his cigarette. 

Minutes ticked by without a word. Just Silverhand’s ragged pulls and Rogue’s heavy stare. The cig fizzled down to a stub and she passed him the ashtray, shifting uncomfortably on the tiled floor. 

Something was really wrong. Never in a million years would he stay this quiet, this still. 

“Johnny?”

“I don’t know.” He choked out, head in his hand. “If you asked me then—when I woke—I would have told you Arasaka. Smasher slamming my head in and fucking up my arm. Saburo and his cronies screwing with my brain. Now? I don’t _fucking know_.” 

* * *

JULY 16TH 2078 - 1:38 PM

The hum of voices drew V back to the living. A groan escaped her lips and she tried to sit up. Something tight, however, was constricting her stomach. 

“Keep still, ma’am.” A head bobbed above her, encased in a familiar white helmet. _Trauma Team_. “You’ve been wounded.” 

A stretcher. She was on a stretcher. “Ugh. Shit. No, let me go.” 

“Ma’am—”

“Let me _go_ .” The paramedic unclasped the strap from the stretcher and the two carrying her laid it flat on the ground. She struggled to her feet, dizzy, and instantly knew she’s already been treated for something. _Great, more eddies gone._ “Just bill me. I don’t need to head to the hospital.” 

“If you’re sure, ma’am.” The paramedics nodded and V took in her surroundings as they walked off. She was still on the bridge but it’d been turned into a crime scene. Virtual tape encased white chalk, limbs and gore, and NCPD milling around. Two of the Tyger Claw vehicles had been reduced to black shells, still smoking. 

She limped around them to her Arch, relieved to see it’d made it out unharmed. An officer stood by the bike, tapping something on his pad. “What?”

“Excuse me?” The officer turned, eyeing her warily. “Oh, you’re V, right?”

“Already tagged me?”

“Yep. This your motorcycle?”

“I think we both know that it is.” 

“Just formalities. Witnesses saw you being chased by the Claws, so a short statement and you’ll be free to go.” 

She told him the bare minimum—that she’d been helping out a civilian kidnapped by the Claws when they started chasing her. “This citizen’s name?”

V scrolled through her messages from Wakako when a yellow notification caught her eye. 

ROGUE

**_Call me back when you can. Hope you’re okay, kid._ **

Memories from before the explosion came rushing back. _News...she said she had news for me. No...it can’t be._ Could she have actually heard Johnny call her name? 

“Ma’am?”

She blinked. “Right. Here, I’ll forward you her deets.”

The officer’s eyes glowed blue as the transaction went through and, after a brief scan, he nodded. “Right, off you go. Oh, and make sure you stay within the city-limits, ma’am.” But before he could even finish, V clambered awkwardly onto her motorcycle and started the engine.

Her heart hammered in her chest, sparking a familiar pain. Pain that had nothing to do with wounds and everything to do with _him_ —her injuries paled in comparison. 

She inhaled another MaxDoc and her head whirled with the influx of chems. Or so she told herself. 

In truth, the thought of what Rogue wanted to share was making her head spin. Her aloof voice hadn’t sounded strange if she remembered correctly. Indeed, it hadn’t sounded like anything. Just her usual self—calm and collected and underscored with menace. 

Cold bitch as she was, even V doubted she’d stay cool if Johnny had actually flatlined. V would know; she’d been similarly denoted once upon a time. Her stomach churned as she peeled away from the bridge and into Watson. No. She was sure he was fine. _Hopefully...more than fine._

With a stammering pulse and a roiling gut, she dialed Rogue. Three long rings before the fixer picked up, her face unreadable. “Hey, V.”

“He awake?” The words, mortifyingly, came out like a gasping plea. Heat flushed down her neck and she hurried to collect herself. She swallowed, rephrasing. “Is Silverhand awake?”

“Yeah. He is. That’s what I wanted to tell you earlier.” Rogue glanced away and her eyes narrowed as if she glimpsed something unpleasant. The look was gone when she gazed back. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Just— Are you guys still at the clinic?” 

“No. But fuck, kid. I don’t know how to tell—”

“Whatever it is, it can wait ‘till we meet up. Where are you?” She cut Rogue off, hands sweaty on the handles of her bike. V didn’t think she’s ever been this uneasy in her life and that was saying something. God, she hoped she didn’t throw up. 

“...Afterlife, in the back.” 

She turned left at the reply, silent for a second before the words fully sunk in. “What? He’s _drinking_? For fuck’s sake, what did I expect.”

“The doc cleared him. He’s healthy. A bit on the skinny side. Already smoked a pack since he woke up though.” 

“Of course.” She replied dryly, though a thrill of relief coursed her veins; it was a high better than any drug can give. “I’ll meet you guys there.”

“Yeah. See you. And V? Let’s...talk before you see him.” 

“Sure.” She hung up, brows wrinkling. There, for a moment, she could have sworn the fixer sounded almost...sad. 

——

V pulled into the parking lot to the thumping of heavy bass and slid from her Arch. More stares than usual followed her as she stalked down the steps. Snickers and gasps accompanied them.

_I must really look like shit_. 

Emmerick chuckled by the entrance. “Wow V, you look like shit. Bad day?” 

“Fuck off. She inside?” Her fingers twitched, antsy as she was. 

“Yeah, get a drink. I’ll tell her you’re here.” The doors slid open. Music and chatter blasted into her face, trailed by the sweet smell of booze. She made a beeline for the bar where Claire was mixing up a drink for a customer and, with a wince, slid onto a stool.

Trauma Team’s fancy drugs were fading. Her whole body felt like one big open wound, which wasn’t far from the truth. She had more than a couple of gashes, a particularly fiery one had sliced her cheek open, and the bullet wound was leaking again. Not to mention the bruising—she’ll be cosplaying _Us Cracks’_ Purple Moon tomorrow, or, worse, a synthgrape. 

Honestly, her clothes were the least fucked up part about her. Her replica _SAMURAI_ jacket managed to survive the encounter with a couple of scratches and her pants were relatively whole—distressed was still in, right? 

The tank though? Trashed. 

She had contemplated heading home first—to change and wash up—but realized Johnny’s seen her at her worst. He probably wouldn’t even bat an eye if she showed up covered as she was in blood, dirt, and who knew what else. Only holler and insult her as usual.

V wasn’t particularly vain and definitely didn’t need anyone’s approval. She knew she was beautiful, _really_ , even with the mess but something about seeing Johnny again like this made her a bit self-conscious anyway. She brushed her fringe back only to grimace at the dried blood and grime beneath her nails; a good hand-scrubbing was certainly in order. 

“Hey, V! Haven’t seen you in a hot second.” 

She looked up, startled. Claire was gazing at her, a rag in hand and a warm, amused grin on her face. _Right, bar_. “Hey. Yeah, been busy with work.”

“I can tell. You need a hot towel?”

“Didn’t know Afterlife was part spa now. But yeah, that’d be ‘nova.” 

“What can I say, Rogue likes to branch out. Speaking of which.” V twisted to follow the bartender’s line of sight. The Queen of the Afterlife made her way through the throng, the patrons parting like waves, and grabbed a seat beside her. 

“Didn’t order yet?” Rogue asked by the way of greeting. “I’ll have some of that whiskey that came in yesterday.” 

“And a gin and tonic for me, Claire. Thanks.”

“Coming right up.” The bartender winked, leaving the two alone. Neither woman spoke for a few heartbeats, though V could feel Rogue burning holes through the side of her face. 

Her fingers twitched again, aching for her revolver. “So what’s up?”

“He’s here and he’s awake.” The fixer finally started, words unusually careful. “But something went wrong with the engram installation.”

“What do you mean wrong?” Music and conversation faded until V could hear only the pounding of blood in her ears. She knew her face had gone blank, her emotions retreating within and scouring her chest instead. 

“He—” 

Rogue never finished; she barely even saw the mercenary move. 

V lunged from her seat, nails digging into her palms, as Johnny Silverhand pulled up several feet away, his arm hooked around a random woman’s neck. Ashes fell from the cig clasped between his lips and tequila rocked from his namesake hand, splattering on the floor between them. 

But V didn’t see any of it. 

There was only him. Only the slight smirk on his lips and the cocky light in his eyes. Only heard his rough laugh as he leaned against the counter. 

“Johnny.” Her voice cut through the Afterlife din like a knife. Everything and anything she imagined about their reunion dissipated into mist. 

He turned, almost comically slow, to face her. 

“V—” Rogue’s hand curled around her arm but she pressed forward anyway, yanking the fixer along. 

“‘Sume this is her. That merc you were going on about.” Johnny said smoothly. His gaze raked up and down her frame. “Nice legs.” 

It wasn’t his words that made her recoil, her body lurching back a step. 

No. What struck her was even worse. It was the coldness in his eyes—that barely inhibited disdain gleaming like shattering ice. The rage in his every word pushing towards the precipice of violence. 

This dark and gaping maw swallowed her whole. 

She has only ever felt this way **once** with him if she discounted his memories—that fateful night when he slapped her across the face and slammed her against the window. When he almost murdered her. 

**When he didn’t know her.**

So, when Rogue next spoke, she was already too late. V already knew. 

“He’s forgotten everything, including whatever happened between the two of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. The titles, if anyone has noticed, are lyrics from the SAMURAI songs, and, surprisingly, they seem to fit the chapters so far.


	4. in our willingness to be bought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tears streamed down her face, unbearably hot, and the pain just wouldn’t stop. She wondered, faintly, if she was going to die. Maybe she’d been wrong about her recovery. Maybe all of them had been. In fact, maybe she’d just been sticking around to say goodbye to that fucking dick. 
> 
> One hell of a goodbye, at least, even if it hadn’t been the one she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These just keep getting longer and longer. 
> 
> Please bear with me!

JULY 16TH 2078 - 1:20 PM 

_“I don’t know. If you asked me then—when I woke—I would have told you Arasaka. Smasher slamming my head in and fucking up my arm. Saburo and his cronies screwing with my brain. Now? I don’t_ fucking know. _”_

Johnny’s atypical reaction, at first, struck Rogue harder than his words. Because now she knows she wasn’t wrong. He _was_ vulnerable, scared, even; it was a feeling that only ever made him angrier and more likely to lash out. For a second, she contemplated goading him. 

But then she digested what he said and all she felt was pity. Pity for him, yeah, but also pity for V.

The person that’d rescued him, that’d offered him a second chance at life instead of wiping him from existence. If she’d been in the merc’s shoes...who knows if he’d be sitting here now? She already has plenty to blame him for and he hasn’t even lived in her head—hounding her every hour of the day. 

So, Rogue just stood up and offered him her hand. “Get up.”

“And go where?” He grunted.

“Just get up and change. You’ll find some clothes in there.” She tipped her head at the dresser by the door of his room. “Meet me in the hall.”

Silverhand snorted, accepting her hand and rising to his feet. She tried to release him, only for him to tug her closer. They stood barely a breath apart and Rogue’s stomach clenched as she gazed up at him, hand fisting. “What?”

“Thanks, Rogue.”

Her shoulders fell. She didn’t have to deck him after all. “It’s not me you should be thanking.”

“Who then?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you ‘don’t know.’” 

“Don’t know what? You mean what I remember? Told you. I don’t recall shit.” 

“And you think I don’t know when you’re lying?” She raised a brow, stepping away. “But up to you.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Johnny tore away from her stare and towards the dresser. But as he reached to open it, he stilled. His metal hand clenched as Rogue watched him war with his emotions—with his hatred of vulnerability and his natural stubbornness. “Hollow.” 

“What?” 

He forced the words out. “I feel empty like a part of me’s been ripped out. Like I expect to turn around and see someone standing there. I keep hearing laughter I don’t remember and seeing eyes _I don’t know_. So don’t fucking accuse me of lying.” His last words rung with finality and Rogue knew she wouldn’t get anything else out of him. 

She nodded tightly. “V. You should be thanking V.”

“That choom you were calling.”

“She’s a mercenary. A damned good one and she’s the one who brought you back.”

* * *

JULY 16TH 2078 - 2:13 PM

Insane. She was going insane. She had to be because this couldn’t be happening. 

_Months_ , V waited months for him to wake up. Thought she’d die before he ever would. 

She had visited him every once in a while, unable to stop herself, and had tried to tidy his hair, his face. Brought him his old clothes back and stowed them in his room. _Anything_ to give her an excuse to touch him, to talk to him. To make sure he was still here. Still alive. Real. 

And, now, all for what? All that guilt, being with River, and all that… Tears threatened to well and she swallowed tightly, forcing back a cry.

A vicious part of her sneered: _“He should’ve just stayed gone.”_

“V? You alright?” Claire asked quietly, pushing her drink towards her. “What’s going on?”

It bubbled in her chest and she couldn’t help it. 

She laughed, sharp and humorless, seizing her gin and downing it. Ice clinked in her glass and the world turned fuzzy at the edges. The bickering in the background faded. 

A tear slipped free and she brushed it away, slamming her empty drink down. Claire winced but handed her a hot towel without another word. 

Two pairs of eyes tracked her as she wiped the mess that was her face, her hands. The towel was completely filthy by the time she spoke. “Fine. I’ll tell him.” 

“Not here,” Rogue replied quickly, shooting Johnny a strangely venomous stare. “Follow me.” 

V strode past the Rockerboy, giving him a wide berth. She didn’t trust herself. She was _so_ angry but she knew if she felt him, felt his warmth, she’d break. She’d press herself against a person that didn’t even know her and cry until her reputation was in pieces. 

Worse—until her heart was. 

So she kept a brisk pace, knowing Johnny’s languishing stride will keep him behind her, and followed the Queen of the Afterlife towards the backroom. 

Johnny, of course, still spoke to her after several steps. “So, you a groupie of mine?” 

“What?” 

“The jacket. Haven’t seen anyone else wearing _SAMURAI_. In fact, I could’ve sworn I’ve seen—” 

V’s face burned but she didn’t miss a beat. “Kerry’s. Don’t misunderstand.” 

“Bastard’s alive and kicking, huh.” A breath of silence. “You do know he likes dick.”

“That why you and him never hooked up?” 

V was proud of herself for not looking back when he started laughing. A smile nearly formed on her face. She was stupidly happy, despite herself, that she could finally hear that sound again. 

But the budding smile faded instantly as Rogue stepped into the backroom ahead. 

V halted, for a second, at the doorway. 

The memories of the last time she was in here trickled back. At first, it was easy: the sound of Jackie’s loud laughter, the hint of a smile on T-Bug’s face, the strange meld of her own excitement and apprehension. Then, _Dex_. 

The motherfucker that put her on a trainwreck of a job that got T-Bug and Jackie murdered. 

The motherfucker that killed her. 

The motherfucker that allowed her to meet Johnny Silverhand. 

It was apt, she supposed, that she had to sit here and calmly tell him everything he didn’t remember. 

_Over my dead body._

She slid into the same seat from last time and flinched ever so slightly as Johnny sat across from her. His long legs threatened to brush against hers but she refused to budge. She’s showed enough weakness already. 

He watched her carefully, foot tapping to the beat of something strangely familiar, and she averted her eyes to Rogue.

The old fixer met her gaze with something real close to pity and V couldn’t stop the anger that lashed out. “ _So what do you want to hear?_ ” 

Johnny narrowed his eyes at her. “Fucks got your panties in a twist?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She snapped back.

“Just start from the beginning, V. Faster you tell him, the faster you can be out of his hair.” Rogue intervened. 

“Fine.” So she told him. 

She told him about the heist, how she died and found a terrorist in her head. Told him about the days, then weeks of Relic malfunctions; told him about the jobs she took to wrestle her life back. Told him about Mikoshi, how his ex-output split them apart, and how she woke up alone in her body.

But with each pause, each moment of silence, she didn’t tell him about that day they laughed over _SAMURAI_ merch. Didn’t tell him how happy she was when she heard him riff in that small room at Kabuki Market. Didn’t tell him that she visited that stupid fortune-telling bot every once in a while just to remember his sheer glee. 

Didn’t tell him about lending him her body so he could go on a date with Rogue, only to feel awful about it the whole time. Didn’t tell him that meeting Kerry was as joyful for her as it was for him. Didn’t tell him about that _SAMURAI_ gig and how she remembers the whole thing. 

Didn’t tell him about the sunset at Pistis Sophia, about the dog tags beneath her shirt.

Didn’t tell him about that conversation at his “grave” and the way she reached for his hand afterward.

Didn’t tell him about the rooftop where they watched the sun come up—preparing to die, preparing to be apart.

Didn’t tell him about the kiss that she _still_ dreamed about. 

Didn’t tell him how much she’s thought about him since.

In the end, she held his gaze and saw only his disbelief warring with his uncertainty. The hope in her, small and cowering, choked and died. So now she knew—Johnny didn’t realize how much she hasn’t told him because... 

**He really didn’t remember**. 

_And I no longer give a shit._

“That’s it.” V finished. She stood slowly, stretching like she just told a fairytale. “You asked me why I was mad earlier. Now you know. It’s because I brought you back to life, considering the fact that you were killing me, and the first thing you say to me after seven months is that my legs are ‘nice.’ Not even a _fucking_ ‘thank you.’” 

“Didn’t know that mattered that much to you.” He deadpanned, lashes veiling his storming eyes as he lit another cig. “Well, for what’s it worth— 

“Don’t even start. I’ll see you around, Rogue.” _And thanks. For not leaving me alone with him_.

The fixer nodded slowly like she really did hear those last thoughts and V turned on her heels and left.

——

The despair didn’t wreck her ‘till she was at the top of the stairs and half-way to the Arch. 

Tears streamed down her face, unbearably hot, and the pain just wouldn’t stop. She wondered, faintly, if she was going to die. Maybe she’d been wrong about her recovery. Maybe all of them had been. In fact, maybe she’d just been sticking around to say goodbye to that _fucking dick_. 

One hell of a goodbye, at least, even if it hadn’t been the one she wanted. 

V grasped her chest only to realize that she was still wearing the dog tags. With a scoff, she tore them from her neck. She wanted to toss ‘em, pitch them into the ocean, and never look back. But it wasn’t her’s to throw away. Maybe she’ll just give them to Rogue so the fixer can give it back to him instead. 

She sighed. The pain was growing weaker, eventually fading as she leaned against her motorcycle. 

_I’m fine. I’m not dying. And I’m not living for that fucker, either. I just needed closure._

She wondered vaguely if she ever felt this way about Yue—the last person she was with. Their breakup had hardened V, spurring on her ambition of clawing her way up the corporate ladder by any means. And she’d almost done it, ‘till Arasaka dropped her into the dredges of society instead. 

_At least I was actually_ **with** _Yue._

God, she felt pathetic, lamenting in a club parking lot like a fool. Dropping the tags into her stash, she clambered onto her bike and took a quick puff from a MaxDoc when, suddenly, someone grabbed her. 

She made for her gun when the hand on her shoulder tightened in warning. A metal hand. The sight of its fingers gripping her, touching her, rocketed her pulse. 

_Closure!_

Remembering herself, V yanked her shoulder away with a snarl and jumped to her feet. “The hell?!”

“Didn’t think you’d scare easily.” Johnny snorted. He was wearing his aviators, the afternoon rays turning the lenses gold. “We need to talk.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“Doubt it.” Her stomach clenched—what was he saying? “None of what you said explained shit.” 

“And what’s ‘shit’ Johnny?”

“You hate me.” He replied flatly, blowing smoke between them. “Can’t stand me and I can’t say I blame you. People do that. What I want to know is why you decided to save me anyway.” 

She blinked. “...Thought you didn’t care what other people thought ‘bout you.”

“You guessing or you saying from memory?”

“Lucky guess.” V lied, smoothing her face. 

“Don’t do that.” His voice dropped, a sign he was getting irritated. 

God, this man aggravated her. “Do _what_?” 

“That thing. Where the spark goes out and your face gets all flat—” He cut off abruptly. Johnny dropped the rest of his cigarette and ground it beneath his boot. His hands twitched, removing his aviators before sliding to his hips—the move so nostalgic it panged—he continued. “Listen, what Rogue said in the club. It wasn’t true. I mean, not completely.” 

“Which part?” She found herself whispering. 

“My memory. I see flashes that don’t fit in from fifty years back. Sometimes they’re a spot, some random scenery or a room.” He paused, brows furrowing like he wasn’t completely sure about his next words. “Sometimes, they’re you.”

It took her a while to answer. Just five minutes ago, she blew up in his face. Stalked off like she really did hate him. And just two minutes ago, she swore she was saying goodbye. Swore she was going to forget. 

Did she really want to go down this road? She’s been on it before waiting for him to wake up, and it’d made her miserable—a highway of ‘what ifs’ and regrets. Of patience and optimism.

Belatedly, V realized that she was so miserable because she _wasn’t_ patient and optimistic. She didn’t want to sit around and pray. She wanted to get on with her life. 

Sure, maybe Johnny’s cynicism and restlessness _have_ rubbed off on her, but she knew she’s always been this way. In Arasaka, these qualities were trained out of her. One wrong step, one wrong word, and she'd be out. But as a merc, these parts of her just came flooding back. 

Johnny taking over her mind hadn’t helped. 

“V.” Her name rolled off the Rockerboy’s tongue hesitantly. It was the first time he’s said her name since they’ve reunited. 

And, just like that, her decision was made. She had to know.

“What about me?”

Johnny started pacing, patting his pockets, and V, knowing she’ll regret it but doing it anyway, snagged his arm. “Stop.”

“Needa a smoke.” He growled but stilled, watching her. His eyes were smoky and a grimace had appeared, making him look frustrated. 

“I know.” Letting him go, she reached into her coat pocket, fingers meeting the cool metal of Evelyn’s cigarette case. A single joint laid within. She plucked it from its place, slowly laying it between her lips. 

Glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, V leaned forward ‘till they were only inches apart—the closest she’s gotten to him today. It didn’t take long for him to realize what she was asking. 

Without looking away, he produced his old scruffed up lighter and lit her up. She sucked in the heady fumes, feeling herself relax. Tension drained from her body and, with only the slightest hesitation, she let her guard down. 

It made her bold; it almost made her feel like herself again.

Blowing smoke softly into his face, she asked again. “What about me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate cliff-hangers as much as the next reader but they really do make the world go around. Don't they? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. keep returning, keep trying to leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She needed to the live for the present. And the future. If the heist had been Act One of her mercenary life; if her struggle and fight for life had been Act Two and raiding Mikoshi Act Three, here and now was Act Four. 
> 
> V just needed to know if Johnny was going to be in it. If their story was over or if it has merely just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Jerry who? 
> 
> V refuses to believe she’s as stubborn as Johnny nor the fact that she’s as, if not more, un-hinged than he is. 
> 
> Their relationship, I think, wouldn’t be as good and hold so much chemistry without the bickering and back and forth. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

JULY 16TH 2078 - 2:56 PM 

Standing there, smoke in hand and so close to Johnny, was mnemonic. How many precious moments, before Mikoshi, have they just stood there and looked at one another—taking in the silence and peace that was normally snatched away from their daily life? 

_Comfortable_ in a quietness foreign to Night City. 

Foreign to Johnny Silverhand, whose restlessness meant action, meant words and emotion. Foreign to even V, who grew up listening to rumbling engines, moaning billboards, and echoing gunshots. Who later had this man in her head sneering at one thought and laughing at the next. It wasn’t so strange, then, that she’d been frightened of the quiet after their separation. Of the stillness—the gaps between gigs and sleep, rage and happiness, day and night. She never felt the silence more.

So why, here and now, neither of them speaking, did V feel so _euphoric_ , so _tranquil._ Like this day hadn’t been a shitshow. Like Johnny knew her as intimately as she knew him. Like the quiet never even bothered her. Like whatever happened next didn’t matter because of this singular instant. 

He was in her head barely a month, yet he’s left a deeper mark on her life than anyone else ever has. 

And for the past seven months, V has been living for him. Losing herself to despair, to remorse, to violence, to the bottom of bottles, to cigarette stubs. Hell, even to sex. To memories that were supposedly of **better** times. _Better times_? She had been dying, losing a piece of herself every day, and somehow that past was superior to this present? 

Who was she—Johnny? 

No. It was sick. _She_ was sick, in more ways than one, and she was done. 

She needed to the live for the present. And the future. If the heist had been Act One of her mercenary life; if her struggle and fight for life had been Act Two and raiding Mikoshi Act Three, here and now was Act Four. 

V just needed to know if Johnny was going to be in it. If _their_ story was over or if it has merely just begun.

  
Thoughts and decisions streaming through her mind, she watched Silverhand have his own internal war. His brow furrowed then relaxed, his lips quivered with unsaid words, and his eyes were storming again. V took a sharp drag of nicotine, letting him hash his battles, when abruptly her holo rang. 

* * *

RIVER WARD

* * *

The blaring ringtone fractured their precious silence and Johnny stepped away with a wave. “Go ahead.” 

Gritting her teeth, V answered. “Hey, River.”

River’s broad smile materialized on screen. “V! Glad I caught you. I know you said you were busy today but we still on for dinner?”

_Oh fuck._ She’d forgotten about that whole conversation from this morning. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”

“Forget about me?” He teased, grin only growing wider. _You have no idea_. 

“Maybe a little.” She laughed guiltily. “Lot has happened today so dinner just slipped my mind. But, yeah, I’m still down. I just have to head home and clean up.”

“No rush, I’m just glad you can make it. Anything important you gotta tell me?”

V blinked, flushing a little. “Like what?”

“Like, what sorta booze you want. All that jazz.” 

“Oh.” She glanced up. Johnny had resumed his pacing, casting looks at her direction every once in a while. Or, well, at her cig. _Impatient dick_. V passed him her dying joint. He took it carefully, his rings brushing her fingers, and she swallowed tight. 

“Babe? Busy?” 

“My bad. No, I don’t have any requests. Just that it’s good, of course.” 

“You know I’m a great cook—” A shout interrupted him and River turned to gape at something off screen. “Shit. I gotta go. I’ll leave you to it; see you at six.” He hung up before she could say bye and V’s never felt so relieved. Rubbing her eyes, she pocketed her holo. 

Johnny regarded her carefully. “Ya’ input? Didn’t strike me as a relationship-type girl.”

“Something like that.” She didn’t want to talk about River, didn’t want to remind herself that Johnny _wasn’t_ going to call the man a “pig” if she told him his name. 

She wanted to return to their moment but it was gone; the call had stacked a wall between them again and she knew Johnny wasn’t likely to answer anymore. She asked again though, just in case he surprised her. “So, what were you saying? About the flashes.”

“Nothin’. Forget about it. None of it makes sense to me anyway.” 

_Typical_. “If you’re sure.” 

“Looks like you got better things to do than stick around.” His reply was flat but V recognized the tone of it anyway. 

“It’s just dinner. Besides—” She cut off incredulously. It was like he was leading her in circles. Hot, then cold, then hot again. She was giving him a chance to reconnect as much as it stings, but now he just chokes up and says something like this? Like he was...jealous? 

No, she had to be projecting. She obviously _wanted_ him to be—a simpler answer was that he didn’t know how to communicate whatever the fuck he desired, as usual. If it wasn’t about getting wasted, high, and/or laid, Silverhand clammed up tighter than an Arasaka bunker. 

V was getting frustrated. Those periods of intimacy, albeit short, felt like years rather than months ago. Will they ever have them again? This _was_ the Johnny of the past, the Johnny that hasn’t been influenced by her so-called “soft, bleeding heart.” The Rockerboy of her memories known for pushing everyone around him away. 

_Then why was he trying to open up to a virtual stranger? What was different?_ And then, that’s when it hit her. 

He was a man out of time—everything was unfamiliar. Half a century has passed and his friends are either gone or estranged. Hell, V saw it first hand with him and Rogue. He just woke up and he was already pissing her off. He didn’t have anyone, have anything. Yeah, sure, he had a legacy. A reputation that transcended after his death, but what did that do for him? Johnny was a dead man walking. Maybe all he wanted to do was feel alive, feel wanted by someone who didn’t think he was just a raging dick. 

Well, someone who he didn’t recall being a bastard to anyway. 

_“Listen, I realize I fucked up a lotta things. Either let down or used every last person who gave me their trust. Blind, selfish bastard that I was.”_

God, maybe she did have a soft, bleeding heart. “Okay, look. I know I’ve just been angry and bitter ever since we met.”

“No shit.” He said dryly. 

“Just hear me out, asshole.” A small smile on her face, V continued, “It’s been a long half a year for me. Didn’t know if I was gonna die or what and seeing you lost as shit about who I was didn’t help. But...fuck, I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that you can talk to me.”

Of course, that was the wrong thing to say. 

Johnny’s face tightened with indignation. “You don’t know shit about me. I don’t care how much you think you do. What you remember and I don’t, none of it. If you think we have some kinda, what, _friendship_ , think again.”

V gaped at him. “The hell set you off?! You came to me!” 

“For answers! Not a fucking counseling session from a psycho joytoy.” He jeered. “A blow’d be better.” 

Her hands balled. Every inch of her was vibrating. So this is what she got in return for her good will? For offering this bastard a helping hand? That vicious part of her whispered: _“What’d you expect from the man that constantly screwed his friends and outputs over? You’re nobody to him.”_

A more reasonable part of her pointed out that he was just defensive, not used to opening up and crying on somebody’s shoulders. Didn’t she just work out he was lost and alone and hated feeling that way? 

No, fuck it. V was tired of walking around in circles for this man. She was bruised and tired and had the worst, splitting headache. If he wants a fight, he can have one. 

She just couldn’t believe how patient she’s been, how willing to let him reel her back in from this day alone. She had to be crazy.

V pushed forward, jabbing her finger into his chest. “You really are just a shit-stain aren’t you? A ball-less piece of trash that only knows how to push people away. I don’t know how Rogue stood you all those years. Stands you now.” 

Johnny scoffed, slapping her hand away. “You think you’re better, cunt? Why don’t you make up your fucking mind.”

“Fuck that’s suppose to mean.” 

“Think I don’t know? You said all that bullshit back there about savin’ me cause you saw my body just there for the taking. Some random ass coincidence when all I’ve seen in your eyes is that you don’t know whether to kiss me or punch me.” 

“Tell me the truth, V. Somehow we mind-fucked, huh, and now you just can’t get enough.” 

It took everything in her to not hit him. “You’re delusional Silverhand. Stop thinking everyone’s going to fall over and worship the ground you walk on. I don’t even know why I’m still here entertaining your ass.” She snapped, climbing back onto her Arch and starting it. 

“Good! Fucking! Riddance!” He shouted after her as she pushed off.

V flipped him off without turning back. 

He was right. _Good fucking riddance, Johnny._

It wasn’t ‘till she was nearly home that she realized she still had his dog tags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, they’re not making up soon sorry. They have too much baggage.
> 
> Also, what’s up with that comment about Johnny seeing V in those flashes? An actual truth or just a lie? We may never know. 
> 
> Hope you guys aren’t fed up with their up and downs yet. Please comment and let me know if you have any thoughts! 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	6. i saw in you what life was missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You hit, ugh, fuck, like a pussy, you huge sack of shit.” 
> 
> That voice— V’s eyes widened with horror and recognition as the beefy gonk, Nathan, shifted, offering her a better glimpse of the sprawled male. A familiar metal arm latched onto the man’s leg, yanking him onto his ass.
> 
> An arm belonging to Johnny Silverhand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, not sure if the NSFW warning was appropriate but I'm sure you guys can let me know in the comments if something like this is considered explicit. 
> 
> Anyway, something lightly spicy for everyone. 
> 
> Enjoy!

JULY 21ST 2078 - 10:30 AM

A week. Seven days. Or more precisely, 163 hours have passed since she’s left Johnny Silverhand in the Afterlife parking lot. It’d be a lie to say that she hasn’t thought of him since. 

It’d also be a lie to say she hasn’t enjoyed _not_ seeing him. Pre-Relic Johnny— _pre-V Johnny_ —was a whole lot to bear and she was never very good at handling hot-headed types. _She_ was the hot-headed type, though plenty have said she didn’t look it. Leaving Arasaka has only unleashed that side of her and it didn’t seem to relish being caged again. Luckily for her, being a merc afforded her plenty of opportunities to feed the beast. 

So, these past seven days have been especially bloody and, perhaps, once or twice she’s even substituted an enemy’s face with a particular Rockerboy’s. No one’s ever said she had a healthy emotional outlet. 

And...there was River. Arguing with Johnny, it seemed, has somewhat abated her guilty sentiments toward the P.I., and the time she spent with him these past few days have actually been delightful. Uncomplicated and sweet, like when they’d first kissed on that water tower in Santo Domingo. While they could never just be friends, V genuinely liked the guy and he was one of the few she liked to pass the time with. 

In many ways, he reminded her of Jackie—a softie who part-timed as a hardass. Someone she rarely got into spats with. It was nice having that sort of non-toxic masculine presence in her life again. Not to mention, he was lovely to look at. He’d certainly been last night.

V let out a satisfied sigh at the recollection, smudging a cloud of smoke across the light-blue horizon, and leaned against the glass railing that enclosed her balcony. It was turning out to be a rather pleasant Thursday morning, the sun inching across the sky as she just stood there and took in the view. She loved Night City, loved its riotous skyline filled with vivid lights and massive skyscrapers, but she preferred the elegant simplicity of the Pacific. 

In a fluid, ever-changing metropolis, the horizon where the ocean embraced the sky was her rock. 

The door behind her clattered open, filling the sea air with the deep aroma of coffee. 

“Hey.” River murmured, sliding his strong arms around her waist. “You smoking again, huh? Didn’t use to do that when we met.”

“Gonna gimme a speech on how bad it is for my lungs?” V teased, taking another long drag. 

River buried his head in her neck, a smile pressing against the sensitive skin there. “Nah, you kill for a living. That’s a worse addiction I think.”

“That an accusation, NCPD's finest? I’d hate to be ‘cuffed.” 

He chuckled low in his throat, loosing kisses along her neck. A particular one behind her ear made her stomach clench. “Not what you said last night.” 

Another kiss, harder and wetter this time, between her neck and shoulder. V moaned softly against the cig on her lips, struggling to form words as his fingers slipped beneath her shirt to dance on her ribs. He was stiff against the small of her back and her thoughts plummeted south. 

Snubbing her smoke on a nearby tray, she twisted around to kiss him, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, and exhaled shakily when his hands roved up her back. River was shirtless, his sweats clinging low on his hips, and he stared tenderly at her beneath the haze of lust. “You’re amazing.” 

_God_ , the way he looked at her was so affectionate and kind. 

V couldn’t stand it. “Just shut up and kiss me.” He complied with a smile, tongue delving in to explore her mouth. His hands gripped the curve of her ass, then pulled her tighter against him. She responded in kind, reaching down and gripping the length of his erection through his thin pants. 

He broke from her mouth to groan in her ear. “B-bed?”

“What, don’t want to just do it here?” V chaffed and stroked. He grew harder with each movement, his cock straining beneath the cloth.

“You know what, I don’t even care anymore.” 

She laughed. Letting him go, prompting a disappointed sigh, she ran her hand over his chest. He pressed into it, his impressive muscles rippling under her meandering fingers, and let out another moan as she flicked his nipple. 

“Get inside, good-looking.” Then she shoved him. River stumbled back with an astonished expression and V padded by him. Her bedroom was nearby, only a few paces from the balcony door, and she slipped inside, crooking her finger at him. He followed like a love-sick puppy, gripping himself, and complied when she motioned for him to join her on the mattress. 

River sunk down, eyes never leaving hers, and she tossed her leg over his lap. Settling neatly on his hard-on, she looped her arms around his neck. “Promise to stay still and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Mm, and what’s that?” 

“Uh-uh. Promise first.” She ground her hips against his, eliciting a hoarse cry from him. 

“ _Fuck_ , V.” He gripped her face, metal fingers cool against her flushed skin, and she froze. “Anything. Yes. I promise.” 

But V barely heard him. All of a sudden, she was in the Net with Johnny. _He cradled her jaw as he kissed her, his fingertips pressing hard into her flesh as his other hand tugged on her hair, pulling her head back so he could devour her mouth harder._

A flood of arousal weakened her knees and she was glad she wasn’t standing. 

_Wasn’t standing._ Her eyes flared open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. The sight of River’s confused face sent a pang of guilt into her stomach. Why the hell did her brain choose to recall that right here and now? 

“Babe?” 

“I—” She was saved from offering another half-assed excuse by a familiar chime. Her holo. “I should get that.” 

“Don’t go.” He murmured, holding her tight. “Don’t be a tease. It’s probably not even important, otherwise, they’d call.” He arched against her, rubbing his arousal between her legs and nipping her ear. She shifted but the self-reproach continued to chew on her, readily dampening her own excitement.

Another chime paused his grasping hands and V bit her lip. “Sorry.” 

River blew out a breath, the sound tinged with burgeoning irritation, and opened his arms. “Go, go. Guess I’ll take that shower now.”

She frowned. “River.”

“It’s fine—not the first time you’ve blue-balled me. I’m sure I’ll get over it in a sec’.” He chuckled wryly, his frustration draining away as he swept in for a light peck. She returned it contritely, squeezing him into a hug, and slid off his lap. 

“Maybe I’ll join you after?” 

“Maybe.” He replied with a shrug. They both knew that wasn’t happening—V rarely got texts that weren’t about urgent gigs or requests for help from the odd friend; by then, her mind would single-handedly focus on said task, and not even a good fuck could dissuade her. “Still got some coffee brewed so make sure you have a cup, in case you go.” 

“Thanks, River.”

“Anything for you, babe.” He squeezed her waist as he slid past her and disappeared into the suite bathroom. A brief moment later, the rush of water broke the quiet, and V finally moved for her holo. Two message notifications filled the screen, both under the same name. 

* * *

**ROGUE**

**_Hey, kid. Got that package you sent me. I’ll pass it along to you-know-who when I see him._ **

**_Hope you’ve been good and thanks again for taking that gig yesterday. Stay safe._ **

* * *

Two days ago, after wrangling with the decision for hours, V stopped by the nearest dropbox and sent Johnny’s dog-tags to the Afterlife fixer. It was a difficult decision made by both cowardice and pettiness, not that she’d ever admit it out loud. The former because she had been worried ‘bout seeing Johnny again if she visited the older woman and the latter because she wasn’t quite done being angry at said man. 

Holding grudges weren’t quite her forte—her temper burned hot and quick like a match. She liked moving on. But Silverhand was a different story. V’s never met a person that could enrage her so fast and so easily until Johnny popped in her head. Yet, he always redeemed himself (not through apologies, of course, because the asshole seldom apologized) with rare instances of tenderness. Like when he told her after a fierce malfunction, sounding startlingly concerned, that he no longer wanted her to die. No longer wanted to kill her. 

But that was the Johnny of nearly eight months passed, the one that could feel what she felt, could hear what she thought. And when the line between him and her had particularly blurred, she could do the same of him. 

Now, however, he was a living, breathing person with no window to her soul and, additionally, with no memory of what he once felt for her. He was Johnny Silverhand, the selfish Rockerboy of _SAMURAI_ and the terrorist of Arasaka, untethered in a whole new world. The man that reduced the last relationship he had with a woman to sex. Reduced his last friendships to bitter arguments and a fruitless crusade. 

She didn’t know how to navigate that version of him and she most certainly didn’t like who she was when she had tried—doing so wrecked havoc with her mood and mental stability. That wasn’t her and, if it was, she didn’t want it to be any longer. But, still, a side of her constantly wanted him, _needed_ him, and it grated. Because the fuck? Was Silverhand a drug she just couldn’t quit? 

So there she stood, on the border between wanting Johnny back and wanting Johnny out of her life. Shipping the dog-tags had been that borderline move; if she truly booted him from her Act Four, she knew she had to do it in person. Yeah, sure, closure might be overrated but one needed it with someone like him. There was no other way. So, she was biding for time in order to make her decision. 

V wondered, briefly, how’d he react to finding out she once had his dog-tags but quickly dismissed the thought. She didn’t want to think about him anymore today. She sent a quick reply to Rogue before she could forget: _“No problem. Let me know when there’s another job for me.”_

Tossing her holo on the bed, she stretched and went to get her coffee. 

* * *

JULY 22ND 2078 - 9:48 PM 

Lizzy Wizzy’s soft, hypnotic voice sighed from the speakers within Red Dirt, a far cry from the usual alternative rock that the management played. That spoke of the new track’s popularity and relevance, but V never liked the popstar—especially after she hired her for that job last year. Still, she moved her feet to the beat as she took a slow sip of her drink. 

Red Dirt was a small establishment, when comparing it to places like the Afterlife or Lizzes’ Bar, and much more intimate. It reminded her somewhat of El Coyote Cojo—Mama Welles’ bar. Low red lighting sparsely lit the main floor, shrouding the patrons’ faces in shadow. V occupied a niche there, legs stretched out from the couch to the round coffee table in front of her. 

She was waiting for her target, a Valentino by the name of Enrique Perez, to arrive and meet with the half-wasted corpo suit sitting at the bar. This was an easy thievery gig, perfect for a Friday night wind-down that she may or may not have already started on. Of course, V was only slightly buzzed. 

One couldn’t blame her for drinking on the job; this place was filled with fond if bitter, memories that she didn’t particularly want to recall. Still, she rarely turned down jobs and this had been available. Besides, even inebriated, she knew better to keep her revolver close at hand in case anything went sideways. 

_Maybe I’ll call Judy afterward, ask her to come and get wasted with me._

Minutes ticked by with V eventually finishing her drink when, at last, Enrique arrived, striding through the main doors with a cocky swagger inherent to a gangster in their own territory. He halted a few feet from the bar, exchanging words with a pretty waiter, and V watched the corpo suit, as if on signal, quickly guzzle his drink and stumble towards the restrooms. 

A second later, her target made a beeline for them too and V abandoned her spot. She weaved through the chattering crowd and pushed open the still-swinging door, catching the two men within off guard. 

Enrique wrinkled his nose at her as she pretended to stumble into him. “Wrong room, _puta._ ” The corpo behind him winced, backing towards the toilet stalls. 

“My baddd.” She slurred before straightening abruptly, fist launching into the Valentino’s face. Her hit was right on target, breaking the man’s nose in a splatter of crimson before she struck him with a quick chop on the temple. He collapsed at her feet, unconscious. 

The suit blinked, mouth falling open as he finally remembered he could scream. She slammed her fingers into his throat, cutting the sound off, and the corpo clutched it with a gurgle. “The shard— _now_.” 

She waited for him to finish choking, washing the blood off her knuckles. Finally, with a rasp, the corpo stammered, “I-I can’t. He has it.”

V rolled her eyes, squatting to pat down Enrique. She found her quarry already slotted in the man’s head and yanked it without a pause. Straightening, she eyed the sniveling suit. “And if I let you go, you’ll do it without being annoying, or am I gonna have to knock you out too?”

He bobbed his head hurriedly, massaging his throat, so she cocked hers towards the door. He nearly fell over her feet in his hurry to flee and V followed him out casually. The man ran straight for the doors, shoving aside any customer in the way, and she started towards the bar. She didn’t think Enrique would be waking up anytime soon, so another drink was in order, but her plan to call Judy was now a no go. 

She hadn’t planned on going in so aggressively—should have waited for Enrique to leave, really—but she was feeling worse than she thought. The last time she was here...the cheering throng and her own voice screaming into the mic. Johnny navigating her body like it was his own, elated to be on stage with his old bandmates again. Half of her wanted to leave here, leave the memory behind, and the other half wanted to stay and bask in it. 

_Leave, I should definitely leave._ Turning on her heel and away from the bar counter, V stepped through the side door into the crisp night air. A few stragglers were milling in the parking lot not too far from Jackie’s Arch, shouting about something. Wasn’t ‘till she was a few feet away from the bike that she realized they were hovering over a sprawled body.

V narrowed her eyes but it wasn’t her problem. That is until she heard what the three were arguing ‘bout. 

“—you Nathan! Nothin’ happened! He was jus’ flirting with me! Stop hittin’ him! Nina! Tell him!” A beautiful dark-skinned woman dressed in a tight dress pleaded, yanking the arm of who had to be her input. The man was massive, tall with a barrel chest and beefy limbs. He kicked at the body without a reply, eliciting a strangled, masculine groan.

Their choom, who she assumed was Nina, stood across from them, equally thick and large, with her arms crossed. She had a vicious grin on her face but didn’t seem to feel the need to participate. She reminded V vaguely of Rhino, the Animal she’d beaten in a fistfight. “Nah, you know he hates when people mess with ya’.” 

“And I’m trying to tell you two he wasn’t! God, Nathan you’re gonna kill him!” 

“Nobody flirts with my girl. You hear me, fucker?” The woman’s input ignored her cries, stomping down on the man’s curled arms.

“You hit, ugh, fuck, like a _pussy_ , you huge sack of shit.” 

_That voice_ — V’s eyes widened with horror and recognition as the beefy gonk, Nathan, shifted, offering her a better glimpse of the sprawled male. A familiar metal arm latched onto the man’s leg, yanking him onto his ass.

An arm belonging to Johnny Silverhand. 

“Are you fuckin—” V cursed loudly, springing towards them. 

Her revolver whipped out as she came to a stop in front of Nina, who was lifting Johnny by his shirt and ready to hammer his face in. “Stop!” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Nathan spat, rising to his feet. She ignored him but kept him in her peripherals as she stared at the Rhino-wannabe. 

“Let him go or I’ll have to make you.” She said slowly. “And you don’t want me to make you.” 

“The hell—” 

“Don’t Nina! Look at her! Let’s just go home!” The pretty woman cried. “What am I gonna do if you two get yourselves killed!”

“I’d listen to her.” V flicked her safety off. “Guarantee I can shoot you before you even get a hit in.” 

“Stupid bitch.” Nathan growled. “Fine. I’ve already got my fill of this asshole anyway. Let ‘em go, sis.” 

Nina’s face spasmed with rage but she dropped Johnny, whose head lolled as he fell back onto the ground. They backed off, eyes seething, towards a beat-up Thorton Mackinaw. V watched them climb in the truck and roll off before she crouched at Silverhand’s side. 

The Rockerboy was a mess, a massive bruise darkening his right cheek and a trail of blood streaming from his nose. The smell of alcohol clung to him like a shroud and she knew he was wasted, which was probably how he got in this predicament in the first place. “Dumbass.”

He gave no indication he heard her, aside from the slight fluttering of his eyelids. She holstered her gun and pulled off her tee. Balling it, she gently wiped the blood from his face before sliding her arm under him. 

Johnny shifted with a deep groan, hand clutching his stomach, and opened his eyes. He gazed up at her blearily, taking a second to focus on her face. “...V?”

“Yeah, you idiot. Come on, let’s get you up.” She hefted him to his feet, nearly stumbling from his unexpected weight, and dragged him towards her Arch. 

She leaned him against her bike, pressing her tee to his face. “What the hell are you doing here, Johnny?”

His right hand, large and warm, grasped her wrist and pulled her shirt from his nose. The bleeding was trickling to a halt and a grave awareness entered his eyes as he regarded her. Beneath his scrutiny, she noticed just how close they were and her neck warmed. A familiar pain spiked in her chest. “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Had a job.” V replied tartly. She tried to step away but Johnny only tightened his fingers. “Let go, Silverhand.”

He muttered something in response but it became lost in a sea of noise as people stumbled from the side door behind her. “Damn, we should go. How’d you get here?” 

Knowing him, he probably drove here on his lonesome completely intoxicated. She scanned around for a vehicle and, momentarily distracted, nearly missed his next words. 

“You’re fucking lovely.” 

Her jaw nearly dropped. The stabbing by her heart intensified as his stare grew smoky—it kept roving her face, lingering on her mouth, then back on her eyes. The intensity sent trembles down her spine. “Why did I show up here? Why can’t I stop thinking ‘bout you?” 

V swallowed tight. “You’re drunk, Johnny.”

“I’m _empty_ , V.” He rasped, “I’ve gotten high and plastered and I’ve fucked some of the best cunts in my life this week. But none of it does _shit._ Fuck am I ‘posed to do.” 

“Need somethin’ stronger, V. Need to fill it up.” 

She could have dodged. Could have broken his weak hold on her and shifted away before it happened. But the smarting in her chest ached so fiercely, longed so desperately for relief, V found herself not doing a damn thing as Johnny yanked her close and kissed her.

It was sloppy, coppery and bitter, but it spread through her like a wildfire, consuming every thought and regret and worry until all that remained was him. He took her like a starving man, fast and deep, and she had to remember to breathe because he just kept taking and taking. Her knees quivered and Johnny’s metal arm only stoked the heat as his fingers gripped her waist brutally. 

She was losing herself. Losing everything to the brush of his tongue and the bite of his teeth and—

_I can’t do this._ V shoved herself away from him, gasping, “Stop. Just stop.” 

“Fuck no. Best I’ve felt in days.” He growled, nearly seizing her again. But she side-stepped, panting like she just ran for miles, and swiped a shaking hand over her mouth. It stung—her lips were swollen and chafed from teeth and stubble. “ _Dammit, V._ ” 

She shook her head, trying to form sentences. “Listen to me, Johnny. We’re not doing this. You don’t know me; for you, this is the second time we’ve met. I’m not your output. And I’m definitely not a random lay here to fix your screwed up head.” 

The Rockerboy swore, dragging his hands through his hair. “Shit, did you hear a word I said?” 

“You’re wasted.” She responded flatly, “I don’t even think _you_ know what you’re sayin’. You’re lonely and pissed off and I get it. I do. But, either you drop this or I leave.”

They glared at one another in terse silence—mirrors of each other. Neither liked ultimatums, neither liked stifling their thoughts, and V swore Johnny was going to keep talking. Keep going on about her ‘till she had to shoot him. She wasn’t about to let him actualize the insult he called her a week ago; she wasn’t some fucking “psycho joytoy.” 

But, as she watched, his exasperation gradually melted away, replaced by such deep forlorn she almost reached out and held him. The expression was nearly identical to the one he had at his grave, even though he now stood there in his recovered body. He was so lost, so untethered. 

V’s never seen him cry and hoped she never will but this felt dreadfully close. She opened her mouth hesitantly, only to close it as Johnny reached into his pocket. 

Metal clinked against metal and, painstakingly, he drew out the tags. His tags. 

_My tags._

Johnny stared down at them and, in the universe that were his eyes, V saw everything. These tags have always been his lifeline, his anchor, his reason for being, and, now, he _knew_. Somehow, he knew that she’d given them back to him, indirectly as it was, and figured out that she’d lied. 

There was more than just struggle and death between them—there was history. 

Determination hardened his face and Johnny peered up at her. “Think we needa long chat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really write, uh, sexy stuff lol, so I hoped everyone enjoyed it even though it wasn't between our favorite bickering married couple. 
> 
> Of course, this is also a slightly angsty chapter as usual since I can't seem to write anything else. 
> 
> The next update will be a half-chapter(??) in Johnny's POV, so look forward to that. Kinda like a 6.5, instead of chapter seven. Make sure to pay some attention to the time stamps, so no confusion arises. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you guys for all the support.


	7. you lit a flame that consumed my hate (CHAPTER 6.5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny halted his strumming, swallowing a lump in his throat, as a grey-haired man emerged from the room. He staggered to a halt at the sight of him. 
> 
> “Who the fu— You’re not V.” Kerry gaped at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! 
> 
> Sorry it took me awhile to get this 6.5 chapter out. Like I mentioned before, this is Johnny’s POV of what he’s done on the same days as V from Chapter 6 but with a little bit more sprinkled in. It’s also my beefiest update? I don’t know how they just keep getting longer ! 
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the sweet reception in the last chapter! The comments truly make me happy and I’ve read every one, just didn’t have time to respond. I hope this POV fulfills expectations. 
> 
> Enjoy!

JULY 21ST 2078 - 4:34 AM - JOHNNY SILVERHAND 

_Lighting cracked in a dry storm. Megabuildings and ‘scrapers black outlines in the sky. They were inside, away from the sound and bustle of Night City, just sittin’ in the dark. He couldn’t see her face, only the glow of the cig dangling on her lips. Ash drifted onto her legs but she barely noticed, lost in the cloud of nicotine. He felt it in him too, swirling and easing._

_They didn’t talk. Didn’t have to. He knew what she felt, knew what she thought. Something sad got her tonight and he hadn’t even needed to ask for a smoke. She liked it as much as she hated it—just him rubbing off on her psyche—but it gave him something akin to satisfaction. She had a little bit of him like he had a little bit of her._

_“Play me a song, Johnny.” Her voice was like autumn rain, soft and just a little cold. “Like in Kabuki.”_

_“Thought you liked it when I didn’t bother you.” He was goading her. Didn’t like how numb she felt inside. Another long drag and no answer, smoke filling the space and silence between them._

_“A song won’t bother me.” She finally said and he smiled into the dark at the tinge of amusement spreading in her chest. He found himself saddling close, glitching into the seat beside her. Close enough ‘till he could see that cigarette light warm on the curve of her mouth. A guitar materialized in his hands, strings worn._

_“Just tell me what ya’ wanna hear.”_

_Her head leaned in his direction and he knew her eyes were closed. “That song, that day on the boat—_

Glass shattering into stars, the nervous yelp of a woman, and Johnny was awake, the taste of bile and nicotine rank in his mouth. He swallowed, throat parched like the Badlands, and pushed himself up. The room was, at once, familiar and foreign—just another random shit-hole he often found himself in this past week. A neon blue light graced the wall closest to him, illuminating the tiled floor beside him. He wrinkled his nose at the sight upon it. 

Vomit, booze, and condoms sat neatly in a soaking puddle of indeterminate color alongside the bed. The fumes were atrocious. Johnny glanced down at himself, then the bed he was on. His shoes were off, his pants half-closed, and the girl he’d been with was gone. _Must’ve been her that woke me._ A headache throbbed in his temple as he swung himself off the mattress and towards his strewn shoes—he wasn’t going back to sleep. 

Scores of moonlight glinted off his car keys, aviators, and rings, somehow all still on the table by the window where he vaguely recalled depositing them. He slid on his jewelry, hooked his glasses to his two-day old shirt, and stepped from the room. Summer nights in Night City were rarely cold but Johnny shivered a bit as he made for the hotel lot. Luckily for him, his Porsche was where he’d left it, seemingly unscathed. 

He slipped inside and pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. His chest hurt like a bitch, that spot right by his heart, now that he was completely sober. He was out of joints, out of booze, and had ten eddies in his account, the last hundred-fifty spent on that mediocre joytoy and that godawful room. If he had to be clear headed, it was better to do it elsewhere than at a crap motel. Time to crawl back home. 

——

Rogue lived in a fancy penthouse on the top floor of a ‘scraper not too far from the City Center, the reception floor all glass, black granite, and gold chrome. The late-night receptionist gave him a bored blink, not even bothering to offer a complimentary nod, as Johnny sidled by to the elevator. A thought, completely identical to all the other times he’s been here, scoffed in his head: _So, this what you get when you sell out to the corps._

The ride was quick but the strangely cheerful elevator music managed to intensify his hangover anyway and by the time he got out, he was annoyed beyond measure. Irritation, at least, distracted him from the hollowness in his chest. 

A pair of double doors at the other end of the short corridor served as the main entrance to Rogue’s apartment. A yellow scan ran briefly over his face and beeped with approval, the doors sliding open with barely a sound. The interior was steeped in darkness, the shades by the large windows had been drawn and not a single light was on. Around the corner, a small red dot blinked—a security cam—and Johnny padded to the door below it. 

His assigned quarters were complete with a massive bed, a bathroom suite, and a million-eddie view. The Rockerboy hated it. It dripped with opulence, entirely different from the shit-hole room he woke up in yet equally ugly. Rogue had given it to him with a knowing smirk, _“Don’t break anything or I’ll have to smash your face in.”_ He hadn’t—the cold bitch’s patience was short enough already without property destruction. ‘Sides, in the last week, he’s only slept here three times, all from when he’d run out of money and needed to borrow from the fixer. 

Johnny padded over to the massive bed, hand reaching into the space between it and the right nightstand. Metal struck crystal with a clang and he pulled the bottle of tequila from the nook with a victorious grin. One never went wrong with an emergency stash. He popped the cork, tossing a splash down his throat, and slowly felt the sharpness in his chest dull. 

It didn’t completely disappear—even the right combination of liquor, drugs, and cunt only helped so much—but, right now, he didn’t mind. The woman from his dream lingered at the back of his thoughts, faceless ‘cept for the eerily familiar arch of her lips, and the thought of her seemed to make his heart feel a little less empty. A flashback of some sort or just a strange fantasy? Either way, who was she? 

Whoever she was, she made him a bit uneasy. He could count on one hand the women that have made a big enough impact on him to invade his sleep—she was none of them. He was certain. Not to mention none of the dreams were particularly...stimulating. 

_“Needa a smoke.” He growled but stilled, watching her._

_“I know.” Letting him go, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled from it a case. A single joint laid within. She plucked it from its place, slowly laying it between her lips._

_Glancing up at him from beneath her lashes, she leaned forward ‘till they were only inches apart—the closest she’s gotten to him today. It didn’t take long for him to realize what she was asking._

Johnny grimaced at the memory. No, that psycho mercenary couldn’t possibly be that woman—her voice was more like an acid shower than autumn rain. He’s never met a person so obviously unhinged, ‘sides himself of course. Didn’t matter that she was, well, hot and fiery—his own baggage was big enough for him. 

So why had he been so tempted to call her the one from his flashes? Because she was the only one he didn’t know but obviously had experiences with? 

No. That forgotten period of his life was over, a closed chapter, and he didn’t have any reason to see that merc again. Why go digging all of it up when it’s only landed him into a third-rate existence. Arasaka was on its last legs in Night City and all of his friends have moved on. The fuck he had to live for? A hole in his chest and a trench in his memories? 

Yeah, he’ll just have to have another dream with the mystery woman again so he can find out why she was haunting his thoughts. Why she soothed that pain by his heart. And maybe, then, he can finally leave this damned city behind. 

But, first of all, a shower was very much in order. He fucking reeked.

* * *

JULY 21ST 2078 - 12:40 PM 

_Don’t even ask, Johnny. I see it in your face. All I know is that she wanted me to give these to ya’. She’s a good kid and I respect her privacy—if she doesn't wanna tell ya’ anything then you’ll just have to deal with it. And, for fucks sake, stop asking for another loan. Go badger someone else, I’m not a charity._

Johnny thumbed the tags, tracing the engraved name on the cool steel. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Yeah, these were **his** —the same ones he stored in Pistis Sophia. So how the hell did they end up in the hands of that merc? He thought back on her curt story from days ago. It’d been business-like, as emotional as a mission report. Nothing that indicated they ever had a deeper relationship than her just trying to get him out of her head. Like they just tolerated one another because of the circumstances.

Her eyes _had_ told him a different story, kinda, and she had stuffed him back in his body, but what was he supposed to believe? That he and V knew each other, _liked each other_ , ‘nuff for him to tell her about the war? To give her the tags of the man that saved his life? Fat chance. 

Yeah, so what if he saw some sort of interest from her? It wasn’t like he didn’t know he was attractive. And one thing he didn’t mind admitting about her was that she was too. Until she opened her mouth, of course. Lust wasn’t exactly a new concept, unless things have changed in the last fifty years. If so, this last week must have all been a hallucination.

Not like these questions mattered; he didn’t remember a single fucking thing from eight months ago. Just bits and pieces that either helped or worsened his chest ache. 

The simplest answer to why V had these dog tags was probably that he took over her body and got ‘em himself. She did say he used her body to kill Smasher, that borg-fucker, so it wasn’t unlikely that he did do just that. Mystery solved. 

Yet, as Johnny slipped the tags away, he couldn’t help but feel this strange inkling that he was completely wrong. He glanced out the window. Today was at least 95 degrees on average and while the Porsche panted out moderately cool air into his face, he was still sweltering. He was parked on the side of the road, his car bearing the full brunt of an environment without giant skyscrapers or trees. North Oak—the Bel Air of Night City.

Kerry Eurodyne’s hideous monolith of a mansion glared at him from behind its private fence. It looked vaguely familiar but Johnny chalked it up to it being just as ugly as Rogue’s penthouse. He powered down his car and slipped into the heat. 

Far as he knew, Kerry was on break from his tours with the _Us Cracks,_ some shit-sounding Japanese band, and back in Night City. Naturally, there was a chance he wasn’t even home but Johnny didn’t exactly have anywhere else to go. Rogue didn’t have Kerry’s number and he’d been a bit too lazy to go find someone who did. Kerry’s address, thank god, had been public info. 

A part of him, as he strolled alongside the fence and spotted a way in, felt a tiny bit guilty that this will be the first time he’s seen Kerry since he woke. The singer didn’t even know he was alive, unless he did and was avoiding him. But that wasn’t Kerry’s style, provided he hasn’t changed too much. Even Rogue was still somewhat the same—his favorite icy ex-output that was still all bark and no bite. 

Johnny jumped down onto the dirt. Nothing came streaking at him—the only security Kerry seemed to have consisted of a few powered down bots and not a single one moved as he strolled by. Not what he expected from a superstar’s abode. Even the front door was unlocked, swinging open without a creak. The interior was even worse than the outside, all empty space and trash strewn across a marble floor. At least the view through the wall of windows opposite of him was excellent. 

He wandered through the open floor plan. 

A press of the piano keys. 

A swig of an unopened whiskey. 

A glance at the trail of clothes that led to closed doors. _The bedroom._ He could hear voices within but the wall of guitars by the door snagged his gaze. Setting down his drink, he grabbed a familiar one with a small smile. 

“Course you still have this.” Johnny took a seat, tuning the strings, and slowly began to play. It was a new melody, smooth and simple, and reminded him of the sea at sunset. Of closed chapters and new beginnings. _Of the smell of smoke and brine._ _Of a crooked smile on silk sheets._ His playing stuttered. 

Whose smile? The mystery woman’s? And where would he have smelled both smoke and sea water? 

His chest ached, fierce and sudden, and he bowed over the guitar. A strangled gasp left his mouth but he couldn’t stop playing. 

_Her head leaned in his direction and he knew her eyes were closed. “That song, that day on the boat—_

“V? Did you break into my place again? You gotta stop doing that.” 

Kerry. 

Johnny halted his strumming, swallowing a lump in his throat, as a grey-haired man emerged from the room. He staggered to a halt at the sight of him. 

“Who the fu— You’re not V.” Kerry gaped at him. He was dressed in a gold robe, the front gaping open at the chest to reveal a gun tucked in his briefs. _Bastard’s_ _barely aged._

In amusement, Johnny watched as the singer grabbed the iron, pointing it at him. “The fuck you doing in my house, creep?” 

“Gone demented in your old age, Kerry? Can’t recognize an old friend?”

“No.” He shook his head tightly. “You’re not Johnny. Just another freak pretending to be him. Get out or I shoot.” 

“Huh. That happen often? You needa learn to lock your doors.” 

“Shut it! The fuck’s wrong with you, I said get!” He waved his gun. 

“Kerr?” An unfamiliar, masculine voice called from the room. “Who is it?”

“I’m handling it! Just wait up.” Kerry snapped back then eyed Johnny again, “Do I need to count to three or somethin’?”

“‘Time to bring on the future.’” Johnny replied simply, leaning against the wall. “Recognize that?” 

“...What?” 

“Last thing I said to you, before I died.” He watched the realization flood Kerry’s face, turning his snarl into a gawk. 

Before Johnny could stop him, the singer strode up and grabbed his face, yanking off his aviators. He cursed as they snagged on his skin but didn’t manage to pull away. 

Kerry’s hold tightened. “Holy shit. Johnny?”

“Yeah.” 

The curt reply didn't deter a hug from the other man, who yanked him to his feet with the embrace. “How the hell are you alive? Like, alive-alive and not just in V’s body?” 

Johnny frowned. He’d hoped it was a coincidence—that Kerry knew another choom by that moniker—but now… 

“Fuck if I know. Care to explain how you know that name?” 

——

The sky was red-gold with the setting sun when Kerry finally finished his lengthy, convoluted tale of music and “anarchy.” By then, Johnny was dutifully wasted and huffed on a joint instead. Nicotine soothed the ache in his chest as he stared over his old bandmate’s shoulders and out into Night City. 

“...She didn’t tell me this.” He muttered, interrupting Kerry’s blabber about taking a picture with the _Us Cracks._ “None of it.”

Kerry wrinkled his nose, throwing another shot, and slurred, “Bitch didn’t even call to tell me you were alive! Or that you were in a coma all this damn time since Arasaka.”

“Thought you two were chooms?” 

“We are! Damn, we blew up a van AND a boat together. If that doesn’t make us friends then I don’t know what friends are. I mean, I thought we were. Guess I gotta call her and ask.” He dug out his holo, squinting at the screen. 

“Not now Kerry.” Johnny said with a drag of his cigarette. “So, you really telling me we caught up when I was still in her head?”

“Yeah. Almost shot you too, crazy bastard you were breaking in and playing with my shit. Guess you don’t change, even when you forget everything.” Kerry fell silent, squinting at him. “Must suck, not knowing the fuck is going on.”

He tossed his head dismissively. “Know enough. ‘Course, thought I knew all there was to tell between Rogue and V’s story but it sounds like it was a longer ass month than I thought.”

“Hm. Guess I kinda get it.” 

“Get what?”

“Why she didn’t tell you. I mean, you’re dick, Johnny. Think the whole reason we even saw each other again half a year ago was ‘cause of V. Hell, reason why you saw Rogue again was probably ‘cause of her too.” 

“The hell that ‘pose to mean? You just told me I used her body to see you.” Johnny snapped. He was so damn tired of people praising this merc, tired of his friends being chooms with her too, when he can’t recall a stitch about her. 

The singer shook his head, glancing away. His voice deepened with severity. “You were different. I mean. Look at you now. You’re the Silverhand from fifty years ago—selfish and fucking angry. Took you a week to even tell me you’re alive. And why, ‘cause you need eddies?”

He concealed a wince with a long drag. “That easy to read, huh?”

“Just know you. Know how you were. An unapologetic asshole that uses, then pushes everyone away.” 

Exasperation welled. “Seems like you were pretty happy to see me regardless.” 

“I am, Johnny. Honest, even with your amnesia or whatever the fuck. We were chooms then and we’re chooms now. But listen, I like V and I liked you when you liked her too.” 

“Get to the point, Kerr.”

“The point is that she changed you. Made you less of the selfish dick that you were. To take over her body, you needed to take these huge pills. _She_ needed to take ‘em. Do I needa spell out what that means?” 

The Rockerboy didn’t want him to. Didn’t want to figure it out himself either. Didn’t want to talk, to think ‘bout V at all. If he could forget a person that Kerry thinks he liked, what else was lost to him? 

_Something happened in Pistis Sophia. Something happened between us, and I…_

“Johnny.” 

_No, better I don’t do all this. I’m wrapping up my shit, getting some money, and leaving this city._

“Know what it means and I don’t care.” He snapped finally, finishing his decanter of tequila. “What it matter if I can’t remember fuck all? ‘Sides, I told you we don’t get along.” 

Kerry let out a bark of laughter. “What, an argument in a parking lot, Johnny? When that ever stop you from seeing me or any of your other chooms? Can’t even remember how many fights we got into in a single day during _SAMURAI_.” 

“That ‘cause you were always on my ass about somethin’. ‘ _SAMURAI ain’t a solo act’_ and ‘ _Stop coming out high with your iron out.’_ And all that shit.”

“Huh, thought it was because you kept callin’ me a pussy.” Kerry deadpanned sloppily. “‘Least being a pussy meant I didn’t get fucked by Arasaka.” 

“Yeah ‘cause you’re all good and happy now sucking a corp’s cock, huh?” 

“Miller’s not a suit.” Kerry pointed out, referring to the man that’d shook Johnny’s hand after their whole reintroduction was complete.

“Not talking ‘bout your input, Kerry. Meant this. This place. Your money, your music. All leashes to the corporation you signed with.”

“And you’re no longer a Rockerboy, Johnny. Arasaka’s deadmeat in Night City and— _Bah,_ what it matter. Today’s not the day for arguing.” He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling a little. “Now, Ima order us some grub, you in?”

“Long as it’s not from Buck-A-Slice. Been eating that slop all week.”

“You really are an eddy from being broke as shit, huh Johnny? I get us some real ‘ganic food—none of that synth shit—and you stay the night, deal?”

Johnny shrugged with a small smile. “Doubt I’ll be able to keep my car on the road right now anyway.” 

“And not like you wanna go back to Rogue’s.” Kerry finished teasingly. “Aight, sit tight. Piss, then I’ll get us some ‘preem sushi.”

“You said _real_ food.” Johnny yelled after the singer’s retreating back. Kerry only laughed and waved a dismissive hand.   
  


* * *

  
JULY 22ND 2078 - 10:00 PM 

A day of drinking and strumming and cat-napping later, Johnny was a grand richer (courtesy of Kerry) and only marginally less wasted than the night before as he pulled along the street where the bar, Red Dirt, was located. It was no less than a miracle that he arrived unscathed as out of his mind as he was. He’s been drunker, higher, of course, but he’s never felt more miserable. 

More unable to bear the sharpness in his chest. The tags in his pants felt hefty, gluing him to the seat of the Porsche as if bearing the weight of history. 

_What the hell am I doing?_

The bar was nothing to look at—with a plain giant neon sign and a relatively bare lot dotted with patrons—which is probably why it was chosen for that _SAMURAI_ gig. Anonymity and superstars and all. Johnny didn’t know why he was here, not really. All he knew was that his chest hasn’t stopped hurting since he heard Kerry’s story. Hell, ever since he received the dog tags from Rogue. 

And, then, there was that dream from last night. Initially, he’d thought it just involved his mystery woman. 

_A faceless figure over a crowded table, smiling at him._

_The clink of the tags hanging from their neck._

_Low, insecure voice echoing off grimy walls._

_A biting remark with no heat behind it._

_The large, blue pill on the palm of a feminine hand._

But then Johnny saw his reflection in the mirror. Saw his old guitar. The mic in his hand as he screamed in an eerily familiar voice. 

A memory he didn’t recall but now knew thanks to Kerry—the reunion concert where he must’ve taken over V’s body, here, at Red Dirt.

And, after the flash, an idea began to plague him: what else could he see and dream of, if only he went hunting for it? Each shot and snort today only managed to minimize his resistance to diggin’ up the past. Smaller and smaller, until here he was, unsure of where to even start.

_What the hell am I doing?_

Johnny cursed beneath his breath, clutched the tags through his pants, and clambered from the car. He veered towards the entrance, overly conscious of each step he took, when suddenly a woman slammed into him. He grunted, arms propping her up before either of them hit the ground. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” She righted herself. “Are you alright?”

Johnny went to nod when an idea came to mind. He glanced down at the woman, absorbing her features in the low light.

The woman was pretty and dressed like she knew it, her large brown eyes gazing up at him with embarrassment. She also seemed to be alone. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He replied casually, grabbing a smoke. “So, come here often?” 

“Um, yeah. I grew up around here, so this is one of my togo spots.” She chewed on her lip, casting a quick look around. “Waiting out here, though, for my friends. Since it can get a bit hot in there.” 

“‘Course.” He exhaled, smoke swirling in the night air. It was a balmy 75 degrees right now—he doubted inside was hotter than that if it had a single working air-conditioner. Girl was lying ‘bout something but it didn’t matter. “Name’s Johnny.”

“Winnie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” The woman blushed and Johnny smirked. “Got a question, before I get outta your hair. Were you here bout eight months ago? Heard _SAMURAI_ played a night.”

“Oh gosh. I dunno. Live bands play least once a month.” 

_Great, I happened to pick the one chick with bad taste._

He flicked his joint, ready to dip when, suddenly, a man burst from the doors. A corpo from the look of the suit. 

He shoved a straggler aside and ran straight for them, a wild look on his face. With a sigh, Johnny carelessly grabbed Winnie’s arm and yanked her aside before the man could barrel her over in his hurry to flee.

“Nini?” A feminine voice called from behind them. “What are ya’ doing?” 

A pair of muscular gonks stomped their way and Winnie winced, pulling from him. “Nothin’! Just waiting for you guys.”

“Yeah, and who’s the choom?” The same voice asked, emanating from the shorter, female gonk. 

Johnny raised a brow. “Just another customer.”

“Fuck you talking to my girl then?” The other bulky freak demanded, face screwing up and turning an unpleasant shade of red. “No one flirts with my girl.”

“Nathan! That’s not what— AH!” Winnie screamed as her idiot input lunged forward, body a blur. Or that’s how it looked in Johnny’s intoxicated state. 

The man swung his fist into his cheek, the impact vibrating through his skull and ringing in his ears. Something dripped onto his lips. He grunted but before he could strike Nathan back, the man drove his fist into his stomach. Johnny choked, nearly throwing up, and slammed onto the ground. 

His vision blurry, he blinked up at the heads that drew over him. _Iron!_

He reached for his gun, only to find it missing. _Where the fuck—_ Before he could even finish the thought, a foot came slamming down onto his side. The air soared from his lungs and a desperate screaming drowned out the ringing in his head. 

Profanities spilled from the fucker as he continued to hit him and Johnny’s head blanked with pain. He gritted his teeth, barely hearing himself goad the man further, then reached out to grab Nathan’s leg. With a yank, the gonk fell onto his ass and Johnny rolled over, heaving. 

Only to find himself inches off the ground as the female gonk fisted his shirt. He gritted his teeth, preparing for another punch, when a shout halted the woman in her tracks. 

“Stop!” 

_Who?_ He gasped, fingers digging weakly into his captor’s arm. 

Shadows threatened the fringes of his vision and the ringing in his ears only grew louder. 

“Let him go or I’ll have to make you. And you don’t want me to—” 

——

_Blue. Red. Yellow. The world was a sea of numbers and Johnny was entrenched._

He’s been here before.

_He stared at the column of light before him, fingers outstretched, when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned around and faced the woman he loved, elated she had stayed to say goodbye._

He’s been here before.

_Her arms brushed his nape and she pressed her head to his. Hot, she felt perfectly hot. His heart trembled and he reached for her. The curve of her jaw, the silk of her hair. The sweetness of her breath on his lips._

He’s been here before.

_He had to do it. Could be the first and last time he ever did. He grabbed her neck, pulling her close and—_

“Dumbass.”

_He grabbed her neck, pulling her close and—_

And what? What did he—

——

The black splintered in a wave of pain and Johnny woke with a groan. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. A familiar face hovered above him. 

“...V?” 

She muttered a snide reply, hauling him to his feet, but he could barely hear her over the battering of his pulse. He felt dizzy—a result of his beating, drinking, or more? 

He let her prop him against a motorcycle and blinked as she pressed a rag to his nose. For once, the merc’s face wasn’t empty. Instead, an unfamiliar but achingly tender expression softened her sharp angles as she inspected him. 

“What the hell are you doing here, Johnny?” 

The words slipped thoughtlessly from his mouth, “I could ask you the same thing.” 

“Had a job.” V responded curtly, trying to pull away. He grabbed her wrist instead. “Let go, Silverhand.”

_Never._

Johnny felt lightheaded, drunker than he did when he arrived, as he stared at this strange woman. It was difficult not to look at her differently now that he knew for sure they'd been more than business partners—for the lack of a better term. 

Their previous conversation had gone awry because none of her stories had matched the abnormal ache he felt for her. And he’d been stubborn and idiotic and, as much as it sucked to admit, terrified. 

But...now? He realized that it didn’t matter that he didn’t remember her. Didn’t matter that this was technically their second time ever seeing each other. He was sure now. 

The mystery woman in his flashes was the woman before him. 

He searched her face, landing on the corner of her frown. He wanted to make her smile, wanted to confirm his thoughts. 

“You’re fucking lovely.” He breathed. 

When she didn’t hear him, he said it again. 

Her lips parted in surprise. The desire that struck him at the sight nearly made him moan. It was baffling and strange and perfect and… “Why did I show up here? Why can’t I stop thinking ‘bout you?”

“You’re drunk, Johnny.”

He couldn't care less. Nothing mattered but here, right now, only inches away from feeling her body against his. Fuck the consequences. Fuck the inhibitions and the fears. 

What the hell did all that shit do for him in the last week? 

What more can he lose? 

“I’m empty, V. I’ve gotten high and plastered and I’ve fucked some of the best cunts in my life this week. But none of it does shit. Fuck am I ‘posed to do. Need somethin’ stronger, V. Need to fill it up.”

Slamming his mouth over V’s, Johnny doubted he has ever wanted someone as much as he did now. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging her head back to deepen the kiss. The slick wetness of her mouth was heavenly and he felt his cock harden at the soft whines he coaxed from her. 

_More._

Her body slackened and something in him growled in satisfaction. She was barely holding on. He curled his arm around her, fingers finding purchase on the soft skin of her waist beneath her thin top. 

He wanted more.

He needed more. 

He needed _her_ and he’ll have her, no matter what it takes, because he’s never felt more full. 

Because, above all, the pain near his heart was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Let me know what you guys thought of Johnny’s POV! Might do one or two more depending on how you guys liked it and if it’s appropriate for the story.
> 
> The next chapter will be an actual conversation between Johnny and V, finally, and basically continue the plot of their up-down relationship. 
> 
> Don’t, however, expect it to be all too happy. We still have some more angst to sit through. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading as always and feel free to let me know what your thoughts are on the chapter, story, or otherwise.


	8. i am your demon never leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny dropped his hand, shifting away. “Figured. Most people I thought were my friends, they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me. What’s one more?” He let out a humorless laugh, leaning against the wall. 
> 
> “Most people I thought were my friends, they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me.” The same statement as the one at his grave, yet said in a completely disparate tone—bitter and angry. She opened her mouth to explain when—
> 
> “Least now, with Arasaka crawling on its knees, I can finally leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mid-sized chapter for everyone! Dialogue-heavy, instead of arguing and pondering heavy (though there is still introspection; that’s what this fic is about!) 
> 
> Enjoy!

JULY 22ND 2078 - 10:32 PM

It was ironic, to say the least, that the silence between them was so uncomfortable as V steered the Porsche up the winding roads of North Oak. How many times has she praised the stillness? The comfort of just _presence?_ Yet, now the moment between them dripped with such tension. 

It was, she realized, the first time Johnny has actually rode in the seat beside her—real instead of a figment. Person instead of a parasite. The leather beneath him squeaked softly as he shifted and his rings clinked faintly on the plastic door, only ratifying his very present existence. As usual, he was restless but V couldn’t help but wonder if, like her, he braced for their conversation ahead. 

She could barely breathe at the thought of it herself. A conflict raged inside of her. _Should I tell him everything? Or should I only tell him enough to satisfy his curiosity?_ There were pros and cons to both, yet she couldn’t differentiate them. How could she, if she didn’t even know what she wanted? 

That kiss...as much as she wished it hadn’t, has set into motion a countdown. Whether it ticked towards something beautiful or disastrous it was impossible to tell. When it came to Johnny, she was so damned tentative. 

At first, when he was a ghost in her brain, nothing was certain, so nothing could be decided. Every moment was an unsteady foot forward. And then he was in an unpredictable coma while she was dying and V had done whatever it took to distract herself from that—even dating a man she wasn’t in love with. 

_Oh, River._ He was safe. Always pleasant and giving and sweet. He has given so much to a person that could never give as much back and the only thing he asked for was her own affections. There was so much fear wrapped up in leaving him—he was her raft amidst a turbulent sea. As a merc, danger lurked around every corner and, like the horizon, he steadied her. Kept her from diving into waves of weakness. 

It wasn’t lost to her that she hasn’t been quite the same ever since the Relic became lodged in her head. Erratic mood swings and behavior; recklessness and melancholia. Tempting as it was to just blame the chip, V had to acknowledge that the past eight months have been nothing but hardship for her. So much death and distress. 

She glanced briefly at Johnny as she rounded the bend towards their destination. 

And, then, there was her Rockerboy. His behavior, his appearance, at Red Dirt was odd to say the least, and she didn’t believe it’d been spurred by a sudden recollection of December. If seeing her, if hearing her words, hadn’t jolted his memory, why would a week apart do that? 

No. V has used up all her miracles. She was alive and Johnny was alive. It was foolish to expect more. Who was she to even ask? 

She hasn’t been innocent or virtuous or ethical since she was a child. Night City sucked all of those qualities from you, leaving you a bloody husk of a person. She certainly was. How many have she undermined? Ruined? Killed? The list was pages long. 

Since leaving Arasaka, she’s tried to do some right in her life but her wrongs outpaced her by miles. It should have been impossible to survive her circumstances, impossible for Johnny to have, and yet, here they were. 

Two bad people hoping for a happy ending. Perhaps, his amnesia was the trade they made for survival. How small of a loss is that in the face of not one life but two? If so, who was she to fight that? 

V bit her lip to hold back a weary sigh as she pulled into an abandoned lot—the place she’d chosen for their conversation after Johnny had told her he was staying at Kerry’s. Situated deep in the hills, it offered a brilliant view of Night City and was reclusive enough to talk without interruption. 

As the car rolled to a halt, she gripped the wheel like a lifeline, unable to stop the question that spilled out, “Sure you’re clear headed enough for this?” 

Johnny glanced at her, the shadows on his face veiling his expression. “Scared? We’re already here, V.” He pushed open his door and stepped out, letting in a torrent of cool air. She paused for a second longer, just breathing, and finally followed. 

The Rockerboy had made his way over to the edge of the lot, near the crumbled half-wall that separated it from a gradual drop strewn with dying foliage. Urban smog clouded the sky, dampening the moon’s light, and left only a single flickering street lamp to guide V’s stride to Johnny’s side. She left a foot and half between them, leaning her elbows on the wall. 

It didn’t take long for him to start talking, or well, in his case, goading. “Didn’t peg you for a liar.” 

The provocation barely made her twitch. “Doubt you can peg me for anything, Johnny. You don’t even know me.”

“Thought you were a frigid bitch when I first saw you. Then I realized how easy it was to ruffle your feathers.”

“Guess we’re in the same boat then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” V felt Johnny’s hooded gaze as his body turned slightly to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Needa be plainer than that.” 

“What you avoidin’ V? Me showing up at that third-rate bar didn’t mean anything to you?”

“Should it? You’re not exactly the poster-boy of decency. Far as I know, you were there for another hit of whatever can get you fucked up the fastest. Confessed as much.” Everytime she thought of the kiss, she also made sure to think of his admission beforehand. _Probably screwed his way through the city by now._

He didn’t respond but she could picture that contemplative expression he wore when he wrangled with something deeper than insults and lust. “...Kerry told me about _SAMURAI._ The reunion and everything. Didn’t believe him at first but it’s beyond the guy to lie ‘bout something that big.” 

V sighed, plucking at her nails. She can work with this; she expected this much. “Hope he’s not mad at me.”

“Wouldn’t hold your breath.” A trace of amusement in his voice before it flattened completely. “Mad at me too, for not showing up ‘till now. Even thought I was you at first.”

“...That why he tell you ‘bout the concert?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So what else do you want me to say? It happened and now it’s over.”

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you do any of it?” He sounded irritated. Her unforthcoming behavior was starting to wear on his patience. “He told me about your little crusades.” 

“We’re friends.” She pointed out. “I helped him with things because he knew me. Knew what I did for a living.”

“Fucks sake V. You know what I’m asking. How the hell did you guys even meet? First Rogue, now Kerry. They can’t help but praise your guts when the only thing _I_ got from you was some half-assed story about getting me outta your head.” 

“What can you possibly want me to say Johnny? If I had told you all this shit, would it have mattered? You don’t remember any of it. Learning ‘bout it all isn’t going to change that. Change your feelings.” 

“And the fuck do you know ‘bout what I feel?” 

“That’s just the thing! I don’t know shit ‘cause you didn’t bother telling me shit. I told you as much as you needed to know and you barely blinked!”

“Let’s not act if you gave me a chance to.” He snapped. 

“Oh yeah? So you stopping me outside wasn’t a chance? The fuck, Johnny. Stop acting as if—” V cut off, smothering her face in her hands. They were arguing again. 

_Two seconds_ into a conversation and they were fighting and then nothing will be solved. Again. What was she doing? Hasn’t she resolved to be better? Wasn’t the whole point of her sending in the tags to avoid something like this? 

_Fate is a bitch_. 

“...Sorry.” Her gaze snapped to Johnny so fast it almost gave her whiplash. Did she just hear— “Don’t look at me like that. You heard what I said.” 

“I don’t think I did. Say it again.”

“Fuck off.” The reply didn’t even bite. Johnny just sounded weary, like even he was exhausted from arguing. “Didn’t ask to talk only to do this. You just drive me crazy.”

“Imagine how I feel, I actually know you.” It was a bizarrely intimate confession, driving warmth up her neck. 

Johnny, gazing out towards Night City, began to play with the tags that had suddenly appeared in his hands. “...First thing I really told Rogue—not some stupid shit about anything and nothin’—was how empty I was.”

“I get it. You didn’t recall—”

“No. Listen. That wasn’t even the biggest issue. I kept feeling like I was smaller than I should be. Less of myself, like I used to be larger and better. ‘Cept, I didn’t know why. Yeah, sure, I was fifty years into the fucking future but _this_?” Johnny tapped his chest, “This part of me never cared ‘bout that. While my mind was playing catch up, my heart kept telling me I was in the right time but not the right place.” 

“Then, you told me ‘bout the chip and I thought maybe that’s it. We were two people in one body and now I’m just me. Just Johnny Silverhand all by his fucking lonesome. So I tried to talk to you outside Afterlife. Thought if I did the damn hole would feel better. Less empty. ‘Cept it didn’t. Only got worse because I didn’t know shit and I hated it. Hated that you knew me when I didn’t even know myself.” 

V stared at him, sliding closer before she could stop herself. “You felt like you were losing yourself. Already lost yourself and you didn’t even know it.” 

The sentiment was painfully familiar—wasn’t long ago that she was in that sort of situation. Slipping away, only to be filled and muddled without her noticing. How many times had she found herself blindly ordering a tequila cocktail, lighting up a cigarette, or losing her temper and not even realizing it? 

Hell, Rogue straight up told her that she was becoming Johnny after the fixer saw his mean, shit-eating smirk on _her_ face. 

It never occured to V that something similar was happening to Johnny. Worse, he’s already lost and doesn't know why. 

“...Yeah.” Johnny conceded, knuckles whitening as he clutched his tags. “Then, I got these back. Hell, didn’t even know I lost ‘em.”

“Didn’t lose them, just gifted them.” V amended. He deserved the truth. The Johnny she knew from the beginning would’ve never said all that; maybe he was more of her Rockerboy than she thought. Though she didn’t know if she could tell him everything, he’s at least earned the right to know the story behind the tags. 

“Thought so. Doubt you found these on your own. Pistis Sophia?”

“Pistis Sophia.” She confirmed softly. Hesitantly, she placed her hand over his clasped one. His skin was ice-cold, the fist shuddering slightly at her touch before relaxing. “I had a pretty bad malfunction after meeting with someone. Blacked out. Got up later only to find that you dragged my body across town to Pacifica.” 

“Why?” 

“Thought the same thing when I woke up. You showed me your old room and told me to open the vent. Then you sat down and told me who these belonged to.”

“The man that saved my life in Mexico.” He muttered. 

“Yeah. You asked me if I’d take a bullet for you, sacrifice my life for you. I remember part of me wanted to laugh—you were a ghost in my head asking if I valued your life over mine—but you were so serious for once. No quips, no taunts. Just serious.” 

“...What’d you say?”

“The only thing I could say.” V paused, retracting her hand. Johnny turned to look at her and she returned the stare, heart beating in her ears. “Yes.”

Something fierce came alive in his eyes. “Huh. Even though I was killing you?” 

“You saved my life. The Relic brought me back. I should’ve already been dead.” 

“Because of DeShawn.”

“Mhm.”

“Glad the fucker’s dead then.”

“Only wish I could’ve killed him myself. But I’m alive now and that’s all that matters.”

“So, you’re not bouta flatline anymore?” 

“Yeah. I think so. Chip’s still in my head,” V tapped her skull. “But it’s deactivated and my body’s recovering.”

Johnny crossed his arms, surveying her like he didn’t know what to say next. When he finally did, the words were flat. “We’re chooms, then.”

“We were.” She exhaled, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t know what we are now. Too many things are different. _We’re_ different.” 

Cool steel grazed her chin. Johnny’s metal fingers carefully turned her face back towards him and didn’t let go. Dark and unreadable, he spoke quietly, “Cause of my memories?”

V forced her arms still by her side. “That, but also a bunch of other things.”

He narrowed his eyes but she hurried on before he could speak. “Before, we had to learn to deal with each other because of what happened. But...now? I mean, we don’t exactly get along.”

“Don’t know about that. For me, this only been the second time we’ve talked.” 

“And we’ve already argued through most of it.” She pointed out.

“Starting to sound like you’re the one that doesn’t want to be chooms.” Johnny said wryly. 

A joke, but the truth in it rang terribly clear. He was right. She didn’t _want_ to be friends. They never were. The relationship they’d shared was deeper and more complex than that. He’s never been to her what Judy or Kerry is. Not to mention that last second in the Net… And that had been _her_ Johnny. 

This one standing before her was uncharted territory and what she’s already seen scared the shit out of her—their second time together after he woke up and it’s already been hell of a ride. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Didn’t know how to feel about him. This wasn’t the man that she fell in love with. 

Yet, a part of her throbbed a bit each time when he looked at her, when he touched her. _When he kissed me._ That tell-tale spot in her chest craving anything and everything he gave her, the spot that whispered that this Johnny was still her Johnny. 

It was impossible to decipher what she wanted. 

She needed more time. 

“Maybe.” A flicker of hurt in his eyes, disappearing as fast as it arrived, before his entire face shuttered. 

Johnny dropped his hand, shifting away. “Figured. Most people I thought were my friends, they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me. What’s one more?” He let out a humorless laugh, leaning against the wall. 

_“Most people I thought were my friends, they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me.”_ The same statement as the one at his grave, yet said in a completely disparate tone—bitter and angry. She opened her mouth to explain when—

“Least now, with Arasaka crawling on its knees, I can finally leave.”

V gaped at him. “What? Leave _here_?”

“Where else.” 

“Bu-but this is your city.”

He grunted, “Maybe half a century ago. Think a fresh start will be better. Don’t got anything left for me.”

A twinge of hurt and V found herself seizing his arm. He raised a brow at her grasp. “What?” 

“Don’t.” She breathed, struggling to keep the desperation away. _You can’t leave. I’m not done!_

“Spit it out, V.”

“Don’t leave.” She swallowed. “Give the city another chance.” 

“Why?” He searched her face, looking bewildered. 

“It might surprise you.” A weak excuse —Johnny shook his head, prying her off. 

“If you look hard enough, anywhere can surprise you. Gave my whole life to this city and what the hell did I get in return? What the hell changed?” Such bright rage in his eyes as he gestured rudely at the cityscape beneath them. The questions were valid and relatable—sometimes, V asked herself the same thing. But still, this was _her city,_ screwed up as it was. 

And the idea of Johnny Silverhand leaving it...

_Fuck it._

“Fine.” With a quivering sigh, she wrapped her arms around herself and spoke to Night City. “Then stay...for me. You said earlier, back at Red Dirt, that you needed something.” _Needed me._

V knew Johnny, somehow, heard her unspoken words when his rage began to abate, replaced by something wicked and tempestuous. The mien was so familiar she nearly expected a crude joke in response. 

Instead, he leaned towards her, crowding her into the wall. It was, then, that she realized what she just admitted—that she, one way or another, wanted him. 

“Thought you didn’t even wanna be friends and now you’re tryna string me along?” 

“I said ‘maybe.’ And, now, I’m saying we can try. We can find a reason for you to stay in Night City. ‘Sides, didn’t know running away was your style.” The rib only managed to intensify the roguish gleam in his eyes and V worried for a second that Johnny would kiss her again. Worried she wouldn’t resist. 

“So, I needa make sure I’m hearing ya’ clearly: we were chooms and now, you still wanna be chooms. _Just_ chooms.”

_No. No, no, I want to be—_

V gritted her teeth, forcing the thought away. She stepped back out of his reach, retorting lightly. “What else would we be? Forgot I got an input?”

Johnny arched his brow and she was glad to see his wicked expression fade, replaced by a more guarded, inquisitive one. 

Then, his signature shit-eating grin crossed his face. “Hm. Alright, you got me. I’ll stay in this fucking city, for now, but only if you answer one question.”

“What?” She knew better than to trust that smile but nothing was certain with this Johnny. 

“...Bet I kiss better.” 

_Of course._

V glared, then, very slowly, brought up her hand and…

Flipped him off. 

He was still laughing when they got in the car. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more resolved, uh, happy ending?? I’m glad the two get to hash SOME things out but looks like there are still some barriers in the way. 
> 
> Anyways, let me know your thoughts as usual since we got a little more happiness in this chapter than the rest. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (PS: I am currently thinking that this fic will end at 12 chapters in total. Of course, there is a possibility that’ll it end sooner or later depending on how the story flows. I also don’t want you guys to get tired of waiting for these two to get together. Let me know what you guys think.)


	9. suits run when I come undone (PART 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here, take my knife and deal with him.” She murmured, passing him her blade. 
> 
> Johnny did so without a word, plunging the knife into the netrunner’s neck and twisting, as V finally found the correct computer. She quickly deactivated the security system and unlocked the vault door when the hairs on her neck pricked up. She spun on her heels, catching the tell-tale glimmer of infrared optics tracking the interior of the office from beyond the window. 
> 
> Oh fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lengthy update for everyone! 
> 
> Thank you, as always, for the support and I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

JULY 25TH 2078 - 3:16 PM

Legs on fine sheets. Skin on skin and the misting of sweat. A drop trails down her neck as V rides the man beneath her, thighs flexing. Her breathing is shallow, her brain overwhelmed with the pressure inside her. The strokes between her legs tease from her faint gasps and she screws her eyes against the pleasure. 

Cool steel fingers squeeze her hips. They grip, then release with gratification. The sex within her swells in time to the crescendo rising through her. She moves faster, eager for it to reach its peak. 

“ _Fuck._ I’m close V.” A guttural groan, taut with desire, fills the air and she sighs, lids fluttering open. Her implants adjust to the afternoon glow and the illusion splinters. 

But a single echo drives her pleasure home. 

_“You’re fucking lovely.”_

River climaxes with a hoarse cry and V follow a breath later, falling onto his chest. They lie there for a moment, the P.I. stroking her short hair as she traces senseless swirls on his sweat-dappled collarbones. 

Post-sex clarity spreads in their silence and, soon, her finger falters. 

Music trickled back into her ears, smooth like aged whiskey, from the stereo on her living room table, before a polished masculine voice announces the time and date. An AV rumbles by, tossing the room in shadow. A sliver of guilt works up her throat and V parts her lips to speak.

River beats her to it, hand slipping down her back to hold her waist. “You alright, babe?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Seemed distracted today when I came over, then you jumped me.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.” She teased softly, arching up to look at him. 

“Oh, I _loved_ it.” He grins. “Seriously though, barely heard from you the last two days. Lotta gigs?” 

“Something like that.” It was a carefully curated truth—the last forty-eight hours had been a mixture of ridiculously difficult jobs that’d involved a mansion, two incestual freaks, and a messy braindance. Oh, and Johnny. 

Amnesiac Silverhand was an...interesting guy to be around, still edgy and deriding like the old but also prone to her version’s scraps of vulnerability. His idea of hanging out also involved tagging along to her work. Long story short, it was a hard weekend, both on her gun and her nerves. 

Normally a lone wolf, she now had a deranged side-kick that stole half of her profits. Motherfucker. 

V didn’t want to admit it, but it was fun, at least because they never had much time to argue or talk about December. It reminded her of that month, only without the dual psyches and much more noise. Though she’d seen it for herself in his memories, Johnny had a good shooting hand, perhaps to make up for his clamorous steps. She could work with that.

The last thought makes her jolt. Two days and she was already falling back into a strange routine of including the Rockerboy in everything. She didn’t know what he wanted, aside from leaving Night City for good, and she definitely didn’t know what _she_ wanted. Sometimes, when they had a moment to breathe between the action, she’d ached at the sight of him. Nothing grated at her most with him there, physically _there,_ ‘side the fact that she couldn’t casually touch him anymore.

Last year, when their psyches bled together as the Relic smothered her, she’d hold on to him. Just fall against him or grip his hand through the pain. Then they kissed in the Net, then again at Red Dirt, and now, despite all her reservations, she never wanted anything more than to feel him. It drove her half-mad, really, and when River showed up earlier, she wanted nothing more than to purge herself of that insanity. 

It’d been going great, up ‘till when River’s chrome hand pressed the small of her back and reminded her of Johnny’s. Wrong side, wrong size, but her mind had short-circuited and she’d finished with the thought of him. Wasn’t the first time but, now, the asshole was awake and she still hasn’t told River about him. 

“—and that’s what I told him. V? Are you listening?” River’s voice broke her reverie and she blinked, pushing herself up. She must’ve lied back down on him during her internal warfare.

“No, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“From which part?” He asked wryly. “You’ve been zoned out way too much. Tell me what’s going on. Are you feeling sick? The chip?”

Shaking her head, she gave him a reassuring peck. “No, no. Don’t worry about that. I’ve never felt better.”

“Then what’s up?”

She smoothed out his brows, tracing the lines of his handsome face. He looked so kind, patiently waiting for her to speak. It really fucking sucked that he wasn’t the one she wanted. 

She should tell him.

“Let’s get up and shower. Then I’ll tell you over a cup of Joe, yeah? And I’ll actually listen to whatever you were saying earlier.” She smiled slightly, which River returned.

“Alright, babe.” 

————

There wasn’t exactly silence on the balcony, since they were in the middle of Night City rush hour, but something close to it after she finishes her story. She sips her cold coffee to conceal the cumbersome tension between them, peeking at River. 

He was staring down at the Pacific, arms up on the thick metal that topped the glass railing, and V couldn’t read his face. Finally, with her beginning to itch for a smoke, he turns to her. 

“So, this terrorist’s actually up and alive?” He was trying to disguise his displeasure with a nonchalant tone but V could see the furrow between his brows. She reached out to touch him, but he only pulled away. 

Her arm fell back to her side and she tried not to bristle. “His name’s Johnny.”

“Honestly? Couldn’t care less. He was killing you and now you’re saying you two are, what, buds? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

_Because I’m in love with him._

“Never felt like the right moment. At first, I wasn’t even sure if the engram took and that he would wake up. Arasaka had him on ice for fifty years. Then we left and I had more to think about than him.” 

“How ‘bout when we came back? And when the asshole woke up? How ‘bout when you saw him yesterday when I called to talk? Or even when I showed up today?” River demanded. He was getting angrier, abandoning his facade and gripping the railing like he was ready to tear it off. He deserved to be furious but it was starting to rankle her, no doubt a blowback from Johnny. 

V kept corpo-calm, shuttering her face. “I don’t know. Things are complicated and...well, he doesn’t really remember me.”

“Fuck, babe. I don’t care about the guy. What I want to know is why you didn’t say anything to me? I mean, it’s obvious you were stressed ‘bout it but you had me. You could’ve talked to _me._ ”

She’s never seen River this mad, even when they were trying to rescue Randy, and it scared her. “I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

The apology deflated him slightly and he drew closer, brushing hair from her eyes. She leaned into the touch. “...I just wish you talked to me.”

Her eyes flickered open and she stared into his intent, simmering gaze. “What do you mean?” 

“It’s just, you don’t talk about yourself much. Your life and what happens, what _happened,_ and all that. Hell, I didn’t even know you liked the guy, much less cared for him. And I know like two of your friends. Nothing ‘bout your past or, shit, I don’t know. Anything.” 

“River…”

“I know, I know. You’re not the best at opening up. But aren’t I your boyfriend, babe? I love you so fucking much, I just want you to rely on me. Confide in me.” 

V struggled to breathe properly beneath his heavy stare. Now she was the one to pull away, setting the coffee cup down and facing the view. As always, he didn’t push her, but did let out a loud sigh and mimicked her position. 

“You know, when I worked at Arasaka, secrets were the currency of the trade.” She began after a deep inhale. “Of course, eddies were too. But...the secrets were what mattered. You can always lose eddies and pick yourself up. You share the wrong secret? The best that happens to you is that you get fired. The worst? Then you, your family, your chooms, _and_ your fucking dog dies. And, if you have the right secret, you get rich and powerful and seal all your skeletons away. Literally. We had a vault specifically for packing away memories that would fuck us over. Even I did, once or twice.” 

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. I worked for counterintelligence. I had a fuck-load of shit I had to know and use and execute. Makes me a good merc. But one of the first things you learn when you get high enough is that, nowadays, anyone can look deep in your head even when you think it’s impregnable. Dropping an expensive safe in the middle of Pacifica would be more secure.”

V rubbed her nape where a puckered scar curled into her hairline; the only time she’s ever almost failed an assignment. “I learned just how easy it was first-hand.”

“God, V. That’s all so messed up.” River curled a hesitant palm over her shoulder. “You don’t have to—”

“No. This isn’t easy for me and I don’t think I can ever tell you everything. It’s just not who I am. But I’m no longer as cautious or as worried ‘bout it all anymore. Different life, different time. And I do trust you, you saved my life, but… What I just said? That’s why I don’t talk.”

“I get it, babe. Had to juggle plenty of secrets in the force too.”

They exchanged a look, both recalling the investigation that allowed them to meet and that eventually got River booted from his job. Felt like a lifetime ago, when it hasn’t even been a year since then. Everything V has now was a result of that month—eddies, friends, reputation, and Johnny. So strange to think that the sacrifice of her closest friend and her getting killed got her to this point in life. 

Maybe, she can finally relax and be more than content, actually be...happy. 

She just needed to know what direction to take. 

“River—”

V broke off as her holo began to vibrate, sending a chromed-out oni image flashing across her implants. “Ah, be right back. Got a call.” 

She didn’t wait for a response, grabbing her coffee and heading into the apartment. “What is it?”

“Not even a hi, V? And you call me an asshole.” Johnny Silverhand drawled, his arms crossed as he stared at her over his trademark aviators. 

“And I didn’t help you get one of these for chit-chats.” She replied sweetly, tossing her drink and heading into the bedroom.

“What, I interrupt something? Don’t stop on my account.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, just spit it out.” 

“Here’s some advice—lighten up a little.” 

“Okay, Dr. Fuck-My-Feelings-Away. I’ll drop a hundred-eighty pounds right now.” She waved. “Bye.”

“Cunt.”

“Dick.”

“Notice how those two things fit together?” Johnny smirked slightly, amused, but V doesn’t see any recognition on his face—well, memory or not, the Rockerboy was consistent. “This weekend we certainly did.” 

“That how you remember it? Cause I recall you pissing me off by almost getting killed after whispering, ‘Sneaking’s for pussies.’”

“Aw, didn’t think you cared.”

“Nah, just didn’t want to ring up your old chooms to tell them that you died while you were with me. What do you want, Johnny?”

“What you do best, V. Need you to zero someone.” 

“You’re perfectly capable of doing that yourself. Besides, you a fixer now?” 

“Not that.” Johnny’s levity faded. She watched him light a cigarette and inhale deeply before speaking again. “I accepted this gig and I want you to do it with me.”

“Kinda my day off, Silverhand.” She declared nonchalantly but felt her curiosity spike. Was he actually considering becoming a merc? If so, why did he need her? “Hope you’re not thinking about nuking Arasaka tower again. Look where that got you.”

“Nah. Think Rogue would actually murder me if she got wind of that. It’s...personal.”

“You just said it was a gig.” 

“It is. For you. There’ll be eddies at the other end of this—a fuck-ton.” Johnny tapped his smoke, ashes crumbling to the floor. “There’s a suit hiding up at this Militech warehouse in Arroyo. Stabbed ‘Saka in the back and dipped. Problem is, her new corpo mistress’ determined to protect her and we’ve got an army on our hands.”

“And you could go in loud and proud but you got no one else to do it with you.” V finished for him. “What’s your stake in this? Sounds like you could care less about the money.”

“Whatever this chick has on Arasaka, it’s valuable. Might even ruin those sons of bitches.” 

“They’re already fucked, Johnny. Gonks are converting by the hundreds; any one of them could have classified information. Why this one?”

“Fuck, V. Does it matter?”

She rubbed her face, exasperated. “Kinda does. Look—I got as much of a vendetta against the corp as you do. They screwed me over, then they killed Jackie and basically almost killed me. But I don’t go hunting for them. I already have a huge ass bounty on my head; the Claws almost cashed it in last week. Only thing keeping the other half of the city off my back is my reputation. But if the price gets higher, nothin’ will stop them. If you do what I think you’re planning to do, that’s exactly what will happen.”

“And here I thought you’ve got the biggest balls I’ve ever seen, but now I know for sure you’re just a pussy.” The insult had no heat behind it—he truly wanted her help but it wasn’t like he was going to roll over and beg for it. Wouldn’t be surprised if he did, though; man liked to live extremely. 

“That all you got? Persuasive jackass aren’t you.”

“Rather not do this myself, but I will.” And there it was, his secret weapon. Johnny already knew she wouldn’t let him die and he most certainly will die on this crusade without her. Stubborn bastard that he was. 

V sighed, “You owe me, dickhead. _And_ we’re doing it my way. When?”

Johnny snorted but looked relieved behind a curtain of smoke. “I’ll send you the deets. Meet me around nine tonight, a block down from the warehouse. I’ll be in the Turbo.” 

He hung up without waiting for a reply, leaving V staring blankly at the wall. 

_Great._

  
————

Dinner with River ended up being a shockingly easy affair. He cooked, she ate, and they washed the dishes together, all while V told him bits and pieces of her history. The beer she’d chugged helped get the words out. 

_“I grew up in Westbrook, actually. Not in one of the mega-mansions in North Oak but it was a big place. More than big. Had two parents that didn’t like each other very much, not that they were ever home to argue—too busy with work. Had their own business doing trade deals with other companies. That, unfortunately, tanked when I was thirteen. Suddenly, I went from going to the best private school in the city, maids and bodyguards galore, to a two-bedroom apartment in the Glen.”_

_“Wasn’t always alone though. Had a younger brother. Would be twenty-five this year, if he hadn’t been killed by one of my parents’ competitors while he was heading school. Lucien. That was his name. God, I barely remember his face.”_

_“I was almost eighteen by then. Didn’t take long to ask mama dearest for one of his old connections. Nepotism at its finest but I didn’t give a fuck. All I wanted to do was leave that household, be away from all that. You’d think, wow absent corpo parents and assassinations and you still joined a corp? But it was the only thing I knew.”_

_“Hopped around a bit and, a couple of years later, I landed in Arasaka. Met a girl, fell in love, broke up. Her name? Yue. She was like me, corpo kid through and through, but more spoiled. Naive. Kind. Complete opposite of me and, in the end, that’s why it didn’t work.”_

_“That’s the short story. Maybe I’ll tell you a longer one another day. Here, hand me the plates.”_

River’s pleased demeanor after had made the spiel worth it; even being told he couldn’t stay because of a last-minute job hadn’t phased him. Of course, V conveniently left out that Johnny will be with her—just in case.

* * *

JULY 25TH 2078 - 8:52 PM 

An overcast night left the metropolis to fend for itself; fluorescence gave way to dull LED as V streaked out of Vista Del Ray and into Arroyo. ‘Scrapers collapsed into squat depots and the stray mart or two, the roads emptying and quieting. V swerved past a speeding car and onto the long street where the address was located. A block east from the warehouse, she pulled to a stop in an abandoned lot, the torn-up asphalt mottled with brown weeds. 

Tucked in the shadow of a water-tower, was Johnny’s 911 Turbo. The Rockerboy leaned against the hood, smoking a joint. 

She parked a couple of feet away, beside a smashed fence, and joined him. 

“Nice outfit.” He mused as she rested beside him. 

“Not looking bad yourself.” V was dressed in a variation of her usual killing clothes—a sleek black tank covered by a bullet-proof vest and synth-leather pants the color of merlot. Her revolver was strapped to her thigh sheath, rather than her hips, and she’d slicked her hair back, revealing the full shocking silver of her optics. They adjusted to the gloom, taking in Johnny’s own change of pace. 

A vest not too different from her own was layered over a dark-gray long sleeve. Instead of his usual pants, he wore black jeans tucked into a pair of tan combat boots. Gone were the rings and the tags—the only silver left was a single dangling earring revealed by his pushed back locks. 

V liked what she saw. 

Johnny seemed to think the same, lapsing into an intent stillness as he watched her. But before she could comment, he passed his cig to her. She took it without a pause, nearly sucking greedily at the nicotine. “So, go on, your majesty.”

“Can you ever speak normally?” She exhaled. A cool fog was rolling in, misting their surroundings, and V tried not to shiver. “Alright. I looked at the blueprints of the warehouse. Seems like there’s a sub-level ‘bout half the size of the building. That’s probably where I’d stow a pursued employee. Data will probably be on her or on a nearby terminal; I’ll have to jack-in and see since you don’t have a personal link. We’ll sneak in through the back entrance, though it’ll be tightly guarded regardless.”

Johnny made a non-committal noise. “Militech’s got at least two dozen fuckers in there.” 

“Yeah, not to mention a good handful of drones and turrets. But I can deal with those quietly. Don’t shoot if you don’t need to; rather you use a knife or choke the gonks out. And, for god sakes, try to keep your head down. I don’t want a repeat of Saturday night.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” 

“Dick.” V gave the cig one last pull before giving it back. “You going to tell me the whole truth ‘bout why we’re here?” 

“Nope.” Johnny finished the joint and ground it beneath his boots. “Let’s go.”

  
————

Things were going perfectly until they weren’t. 

The two managed to get into the warehouse with nary a problem, staying mute and blood-free. For all his jitteriness, Johnny knew when to be still and shut up, taking in her hand signals without batting an eye. Then, they reached the office. A single gonk, hooked up to a netrunner chair, was by the corner. An entire wall of monitors blinked with CCTV footage, some of the screens black from V’s quick hacks. She slipped inside, the Rockerboy on her heels, and searched for the terminal that controlled the thick vault door to the sub-level. 

“Here, take my knife and deal with him.” She murmured, passing him her blade. 

Johnny did so without a word, plunging the knife into the netrunner’s neck and twisting, as V finally found the correct computer. She quickly deactivated the security system and unlocked the vault door when the hairs on her neck pricked up. She spun on her heels, catching the tell-tale glimmer of infrared optics tracking the interior of the office from beyond the window.

_Oh fuck._

She dropped to her knees, motioning for Johnny to do the same. He knelt, brow raised. Shaking her head, she edged behind the desk. The office door slid open a beat later and the patrol guard she glimpsed padded in. His gun, a Militech M251s Ajax, was up, sweeping the room. A shot from that at close range was lethal. V risked a peek at Silverhand, but he had disappeared. The sentry was nearing the netrunner’s corpse and will soon see the crimson dripping from his neck; fucker will alert the entire complex. She snagged her revolver, cursing soundlessly as she realized her suppressor wasn’t screwed on. _Okay, plan b._

_One. Two. Three. Go!_

She scrambled from her spot as the guard passed by the desk. Hooking her arm around the man’s neck, she squeezed. But a fierce jab of his elbow had her staggering back and slamming against the desk. Oxygen rushed out of her chest. The sentry scrambled to get his rifle up and V made to dodge when, suddenly, a glinting blade emerged from his throat. His gloved hands soaked in blood as he scrabbled at the knife. His muffled gurgles barely hit the air. 

She caught the guard as he pitched forward, lowering him slowly to the floor. But the damage was done. He must’ve sent an alert out because shouts began to saturate the building and V heard the tell-tale whirl of drones. She exchanged a panicked look with Johnny, who crouched and grabbed her arm. 

“Make a run for it.” She hissed. 

Clambering out of the office, they nearly ran into a trio of sentries around the corner. Backing up, they waited breathlessly for them to pass before racing down the corridor and towards the main area of the warehouse. Shouts spilled after them as they ran through the doors. 

Here, rows and rows of shelves stacked with crates divided the space into aisles. Turret-equipped drones hovered up and over, their beams of light sweeping the concrete floor. As V ducked into the shadow of a shelf, she hacked one. 

It beeped once, then twice, as it located a pair of guards and immediately began shooting. Cries of pain filled the air and she let Johnny tow her down an aisle. Veering left, the two bolted across a tract of lit space but caught the attention of another drone. Slugs rained. She ducked, hearing the rounds slam into the ground behind her and Johnny’s own subsequent expletive. 

They scrambled down a narrow staircase tucked behind a stack of boxes, finally losing the drone. The sub-level entrance stretched before them, a handful of yards away. However, two alert sentries were waiting by the door. They were bulkier than the ones they’ve seen so far, huge electric batons sandwiched between meaty fingers and armored in protective gear. _Ah, fuck this._

V whipped out her revolver. The subsequent shot was ridiculously loud as it echoed against the walls. Her bullet took the left woman in the chest but, still, she kept coming. Johnny mimicked her, his Malorian emptying into the other sentry. Bastard barely blinked. Soon, the distance between them closed and each had to evade the whistling swings of the batons. 

Time braked to a snail-pace, allowing V to make out the enraged scowl on her opponent’s face and to release her mantis blades. They shot out of her arms, whirring with energy. 

As she ducked under another powerful swat, she buried the foot-and-a-half blade into the woman’s side. It sliced through Kevlar and flesh like butter. The electricity on the weapon paralyzed the brute, shoving her to her knees. Her baton clattered onto the floor, rolling away. She yanked the blade out, whirling around to face the other guard. Johnny was handling himself, though not well, rolling beneath each swing. A grimace wrinkled his face. 

The sentry, from the corner of his eyes, noticed his partner was down and twisted to keep both of them in sight. He brandished his baton carefully in front of him as she reached Silverhand’s side. “Are you alright?”

“ _Fine._ ” He snarled. They backed up as one when the guard approached. “Left when he’s within striking distance. I’ll go right.”

V nodded. The bastard neared, lifting his weapon above his head. 

“ _Now!_ ” 

The two flowed between him like water. He shouted something obscene but chose her as the bigger threat. His next swing nearly bludgeoned her head. She dipped, lunging and sliding on the floor. The guard made to whack her when Johnny’s pistol discharged. 

_BANG!_

Brains dashed the ground beside her as the brute crumpled. Clamor drifted into the hall and neither of them missed the stomping of many boots down the stairs. She lurched up, gesturing towards the sub-level door. It activated with a quick scan, clanking open and revealing a darkened corridor. They dashed in. 

The entrance closed behind them and V disabled the mechanisms, locking them in but also locking the others out. They stumbled down the blessedly empty corridor and through an archway leading into a medium-sized chamber filled with crates. There was no one to be found. 

V paused behind a box to catch her breath, retracting her blades. “Fucking hell.” 

“No shit.” Johnny said with a dry laugh, dropping beside her. “You alright?”

“Picture perfect. You?” She searched his face, unable to stop herself from reaching out and wiping away a streak of blood. His skin was strangely soft. He stilled, blinking slowly at the feel of her fingers. “Did you get hit?”

“...‘M fine.” He replied to her lips. She dropped her hand, cheeks heating up. He looked all serious again, gaze set on roving her face. Eyes. Lips. Eyes. Lips. 

“G-good.” 

V pushed to her feet, brushing away dust, and scanned the room. A single ceiling light illuminated the center of the space, plunging crowded corners into darkness. Opposite them was a pair of doors, sealed shut. It was several degrees cooler in here than up top, enough to raise goosebumps along her arms. 

“We better get moving, I can hear the gonks slamming at the—”

Hands, one chrome and one flesh, clasped her face between them and she stared, open-mouthed, up at Johnny. Clear-eyed, blood-stained, and focused, the Rockerboy silenced her with his open desire. “You can punch me after.” 

“No, don’t.” _Yes!_

“After.” He repeated. “I’m taking my thanks now.” 

Their third kiss was unlike the first two. Less desperate, more careful. And no less impressive. 

Johnny kissed like a maestro, mouth bruisingly hard. His tongue weaved between her lips to stroke against hers, tasting of nicotine. 

And maybe because he saved her life, because they almost died, and because the adrenaline was still kicking through her system, V kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They just keep on kissing don't they? How can V resist Johnny?
> 
> Thank you for reading and feel free to leave comments!


	10. suits run when I come undone (PART 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The agent bared his teeth in pain and charged at her. She dodged at the last minute, his fist whistling inches from her head, and leaped for the table—only for David to grab her ankle and throw her down on it instead. She slammed into it with a guttural cry, feeling her shoulder dislocate in a wave of pain. The table cracked, collapsing. Grabbing her shoulder, she scrambled away and heard, rather than saw, Silverhand shoot. The heavy rounds of his Malorian thudded into the agent’s back. 
> 
> David didn’t even flinch. He reached down to grab her, clutching her neck and squeezing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update’s here and it’s kind of long. Split POV between V and Johnny.
> 
> Not completely edited so excuse the mistakes. 
> 
> Also, I would like to thank everyone for their sweet, sweet support. It really makes me happy to see new kudos and new comments even when I’m too overwhelmed to respond at times. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

10 

JULY 25TH 2078 - 9:30 PM

Feverish. Languid. Deft. 

Johnny’s hands stroked the shell of her ears. Tangled in her hair. Gentle, then intense—those callused fingers plying pleasure and passion from her as if she were the strings of his beloved guitar. Down the sides of her neck, over the curve of her collarbones. Every graze, every pressure, setting her body on fire.

His mouth worked in tandem. Tongue caressing hers, he swallowed the deep moan that welled from her throat. V found herself reaching for him, digging her nails into his shoulders. He groaned into her but began to pull away, biting on her lower lip as he went. She didn’t stop him. 

Their third kiss had only lasted less than a minute but it’d felt like blissful, terrible eternity. 

Johnny held her gaze, carefully prying from her grasp. “Not the face.” 

She blinked. “What?”

“Rather you not hit my face.” He smirked. “Well? Now or never.”

“Not punching you.” V rolled her eyes, trying not to touch her lips. They were prickling with desire—she needed a _very_ cold shower. “Let’s just finish the job.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t offer, V.” Johnny stepped away, glancing down the corridor they’d come from. “They’re still banging. We should head deeper, try to find that room where that corpo-cunt’s located before we get swamped.” 

V nodded curtly. 

She trailed her fingers over several of the crates as she searched the room. It didn’t look like the space was anything more than a storage area, lacking as it was in tech. “The hell are in these?”

The Rockerboy shrugged, striding up to the closed doors at the other end. “Don’t matter. Shit, door’s locked. Take a look?” 

A sleek panel beside the door blinked red and V gave it a quick scan. 

“Mm, someone sealed it from the other side. Don’t think I’ll be able to get it open.” She was a decent hacker—one didn’t work in Counterintel without some competance in the area—but this was beyond her. She swept her optics over the rest of the room, catching the tell-tale outline of a large vent. It sat near the ceiling and, conveniently, above a metal shelf. She shoved its contents to the floor, clambering up to the top level. “Think I can pry this open.”

“Doubt I’ll fit.” Johnny muttered from below her. “With my broad shoulders and all.” 

“I’ll see where it goes and, hopefully, I’ll be able to get the door open.” With a grunt, V tore the vent grate off and slid it aside. A dim red bulb illuminated the cavity for several feet before veering right. 

“Careful, V.” 

“Sit tight.” She crawled into the vent. It was tight and musty, filling her nostrils with a combination of chemicals and dust. She held her breath as she dragged herself carefully down the length of the passage. Metal squeaked beneath her weight, immensely loud beside the thud of her heart. At the end of the right turn was another grate. 

V strained her head, peering through the gaps and down onto what she suspected was the other side of the locked door. 

A laser trip mine had been set up so the moment anyone stepped through they’d be blown to pieces. She twisted, hearing the familiar churning of a power turret. The machine appeared to be the only sentry in what she suspected was another hallway, its laser pointed directly at the door. Carefully, though not soundlessly, V pushed the grate onto the floor below. It hit the ground with a clatter and she froze, waiting for someone to investigate. 

In the distance, there was the nearly inaudible _ssh_ of a sliding door, followed by the careful tread of footsteps. She peeked around the corner, watching an alert Militech agent draped in a reinforced suit scan the hall. 

Only a matter of heartbeats before she saw the broken grate. 

V lunged out of the vent, her roll absorbing the impact of her landing, and was up in the air before the agent could raise her iron. A single mantis blade deployed and V swept her right arm sideways as she neared the ground. The steel sheared through skin, muscle, and spine—severing the agent’s head. It tumbled to the floor with a wet thud. 

Heavy churning told her the turret behind her was turning, ready to loose fire. Thrusting forward, V sliced at the thick cables that powered it and was rewarded with a dying whine. Its laser flickered and disappeared. She straightened from her crouch and crept forward to where the agent had exited. Lucky for her, the door had a thin glass pane, offering a view of within. 

It was an office of some kind, slightly smaller than the one they’d rifled through upstairs. From her angle, a corner of a desk and a row of cabinets could be seen. Pacing in front of them was a large white woman—the target, Terry Patrickson, former director of Arasaka's Special Operations. 

The person that’d replaced Susan Abernathy, the bitch that upended V’s corporate career, after her untimely suicide. 

Terry was shouting, waving her arms erratically at an obscured individual. “Check on her, for god sakes! I heard another sound I’m telling you!”

A high, albeit masculine voice replied placatingly, “I am to stay by your side, ma’am. And Agent Harrison is very effective at handling herself. I am sure everything is fine.”

“Then why the hell is it all quiet now?!” 

V held back a snort, wavering between handling the two or letting Johnny in first. Reluctantly, she chose the latter. It was his mission, after all. She paused by the beheaded corpse of Agent Harrison, swiping from her a keycard that should open the door. Deactivating the mine with a hack, she pressed the access pass against another red panel. It beeped, glowing green, and the door glided open. 

Johnny scowled at her from the other side, arms crossed. “Took your ass long enough. What, took a piss break?”

“Quit it. Keep your Malorian up and follow me. The target’s in the room with a single guard left.” She resealed the door behind him and crept for the office. 

The Rockerboy pulled a face as he passed Harrison’s body. “Had to slice this bitch’s head off?” 

“Easier than shooting her and alerting whoever’s left.” V paused by the office door. “In here. I’ll open up and you head in first but watch out for the last guy. Something’s up with him.”

“The fuck that mean?”

“It means he’s probably like—” _Like Oda, who you don’t remember._ “Nevermind. Just keep your iron on him.” 

Inhaling, V waved the pass over the door. It opened and Johnny swept in, sights up. She trailed him, palming her revolver and keeping it raised. The office was L-shaped, the desk tucked in the top-right corner, while a couch and coffee table dominated the left side. Standing in front of the table was the man she presumed was the other agent. His hands were up, his beady black gaze narrowed at Johnny. Terry’s eyes flared wide at the sight of him and she dove for the smart-pistol on the desk. 

V snapped her gun at her. “Keep still, Terry. Don’t make me shoot.” 

“I’d listen to her, suit.” Johnny drawled, attention not straying from the man in his sights. “Hand over the data you klepped from ‘Saka.” 

“D-don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Militech.” Terry stammered, raising her hands. 

Johnny barked a laugh, “And I’m Saburo —you really think we’re stupid? Give it _now_.” 

“I—”

“I wouldn’t, ma’am.” The agent declared slowly. V glanced at him, optics flickering for a scan. 

_David Lam. Affiliation: Militech. Wanted:★★★★★._ Fuck, he was bad news. “You’ve already signed the NDA; the information no longer belongs to you.”

“We’ve agreed that I’ll only give you everything if I survive!” Terry cried. “These two will kill us before that happens if I don’t hand it to them.” 

David shook his head. “Ma’am, listen to me.” 

“The data, Terry.” V warned, clicking off her safety. 

“Fine! Fine! Here, I’ll transfer—” The suit choked, beginning to seize. Body convulsing, she pitched forward. V made for her. 

Johnny cursed, glancing in their direction. It was only for a second, but it was enough.

The Militech agent sprung forward. His hand grabbed Johnny around the throat impossibly fast, hauling him into the air. Time crawled to a halt as dread filled V. _No!_ She squeezed her trigger, the revolver recoiling in her grip. The shot took David through the arm and Johnny collapsed at the man’s feet. 

The agent bared his teeth in pain and charged at her. She dodged at the last minute, his fist whistling inches from her head, and leaped for the table—only for David to grab her ankle and throw her down on it instead. She slammed into it with a guttural cry, feeling her shoulder dislocate in a wave of pain. The table cracked, collapsing. Grabbing her shoulder, she scrambled away and heard, rather than saw, Silverhand shoot. The heavy rounds of his Malorian thudded into the agent’s back. 

David didn’t even flinch. He reached down to grab her, clutching her neck and squeezing. He was so strong—his cyberware top-grade—and she knew if she didn’t have a reinforced skeleton, her neck would have already snapped. Desperate, V smashed her revolver into his face. Blood splattered onto her as his nose broke in a sickening crunch. 

Her iron flew from her grasp and the agent reeled backwards. 

“Fucking bi—”

Johnny offloaded his chamber on the man, each shot taking him in the chest and forcing him back. The agent tripped over the remnants of the table, groaning as he hit the floor. The Rockerboy, face twisted in fury, reloaded with deadly accuracy and crouched close. “Die, you son of a whore.” 

His next shot took David’s head. Dust, gore, and wood exploded into the air. 

V sighed in relief, resting her head. “Fuck that guy.”

“Couldn’t have said that better myself.” Johnny replied flatly, coming over to her. She stared up at him, searching his handsome severity and nearly melting under his fervorous regard. “You alright?”

She accepted his outstretched hand—his touch solid and anchoring—and let him pull her to her feet. As she stood, she twisted her shoulder back into place with a pained grunt. “I’ll have some ‘preem bruises tomorrow, but I’ll be fine. You?”

“Will be real fucking glad when this is over. Is the cunt dead?” He gestured, irritated, at Terry. The suit was slumped over by the desk, in the same position V saw her land in. She scanned the woman with a click of her tongue.

“Yeah, fuck. I won’t be able to retrieve shit from her fried cortex—Militech douche over here must’ve overloaded her.”

“That mean the data was in her?”

“Think so. She was trying to transfer the files before she died. Let me check the terminal.” V scrolled through the multitude of files on the desktop. Six messages between Terry Patrickson and a familiar name—Meredith Stout. A contract detailing Terry’s short-term employment under Militech and a neatly signed NDA that had gotten the former director killed. She gave the paperwork a quick glance, raising her brow at a particular sentence. “Says here that 50% of the files have already been transferred over to a David Lam. Johnny, check the asshole’s pockets. We better hope what we’re looking for wasn’t just in his head.” 

“Yeah, he’s currently missing most of that.” The Rockerboy mused, patting down the agent. “Fucks’ sake. Nothing—no, wait.” V stepped over, watching him dig his fingers in what remained of the man’s skull. Carefully, he pulled out something stuck between a piece of bone and a lump of tissue. Fingers gleaming, he held it up to the light. A datashard. 

“Lucky bastard.” She muttered and grabbed it. Wiping the best of the gore off, she slotted it in. A mess of blueprints, personnel files, and hundreds, if not thousands, of names flickered to life in front of her. How the hell is this only half of what Terry was trading? She removed the shard, pushing it into her pocket. “Okay, I think this is it. We’ll have to check it out later.” 

Right on cue, yelling began to trickle down the hall; the rest of the guards have finally opened the vault door. It’ll only be a matter of minutes before they reached them. V cursed. 

“Watch the door, I’ll look for another way out.” The sub-level plan hadn’t included a secret exit but V knew all depots that functioned as safehouses had one. Questions were why hadn’t Terry used it and where the fuck was it? She glanced beneath the desk, felt between the cabinets, and scanned the walls. Nothing. 

“Hurry up, V. Think they’re tryna get through the hall door.” Johnny growled. 

“The fuck you think I’m doing?” She snapped back, gaze flickering back and forth. Finally, her eyes landed on the undisturbed couch. She jumped towards it, digging her fingers behind the back and shoving the loveseat aside. A large circular opening gaped at her. _‘Nova._

“In!” Silverhand abandoned his post and dragged himself through the hole. V followed, ducking in as the angry voices grew louder. It was a circular pipeline, barely four feet high and three feet wide, and completely pitch black. The pair struggled blindly down the length of it, her hand half-pushing and half-holding onto Johnny’s broad back. 

The Rockerboy was cursing heavily beneath his breath and V risked a glance behind her. A beam of light flickered into the entrance as they rounded a corner—the guards have found the passage. The tunnel began to slope up and V heard Johnny’s boots hit metal. A ladder? She squinted upwards and realized that her vision was brightening. An exit of some sort up ahead. Hopefully there won’t be anyone guarding it.

She stepped onto a solid rung, praying that Silverhand won’t step on her head, and climbed diagonally up through the pipeline. They hurried but V could hear movement echoing behind them. Above her, Johnny stopped with a vicious mutter. He was wrestling with something, chrome hand striking against metal. Something broke or released with a clang and Johnny disappeared from view for brief second. 

Then a shadow swallowed the light and she squinted up at it. The Rockerboy was dangling over her, hand outstretched and she seized it gladly. He hefted her from the pipeline and she sucked in what constituted as fresh air in Night City, only there was a trace of rancid trash. The sky was clear of clouds and the brightness of the moon lit their grimy surroundings. They were in an alleyway of some sort—just behind the Militech depot. 

“Up there!” A voice echoed towards them; their pursuers were climbing the slope. V slammed the grate door Johnny had opened shut. 

“Let’s fucking delta.” He growled, grasping her arm and tearing down the alley. They leaped over trash and side-stepped dumpsters, pealing out onto a narrow street. Johnny swiftly scoured the length of it and pulled her right. Staying in the shadows of worn-down tenements, they raced down the road and towards safety. 

Heart slamming in her chest, V’s never felt more alive. 

————

Militech Behemoths screeched down the pavement and away from the depot that was now going up in flames, smoke thickening the atmosphere. The corpo was getting rid of a very unfortunate night’s loss in the easiest way possible—arson. V pulled her arm from her face and glanced at the Rockerboy leaning against the brick wall behind her. He had his usual shit-eating smirk on, arms crossed as he stared at the flames licking the sky. Afar, the tell-tale whine of NCPD sirens forecasted trouble. 

She couldn’t be sure if either of their faces had been caught by Militech scans and she’d rather not stick around and find out. Her reputation won’t protect her from corrupt pigs out here in 6th Street territory—a five-hundred grand bounty was very tempting for most people. The only reason the officer had let her go after the Claws’ incident was because of her standing in Westbrook. 

“Come on. Should be safe to head back to our vehicles.” She said, striding towards the lot where they’d parked. Johnny followed at her side, lighting a cig as his legs ate up the sidewalk.

He exhaled slowly, pushing his hair back. “Good job, V. Knew I could count on you.”

“Wait ‘till we look at this data you wanted first. Don’t forget it’s only half of it. Of course, you’ll still have to pay me regardless.”

“Worth every eddie.” He said smoothly, offering her the joint. 

V shook her head; she was trying not to look at him. Now that the excitement and bloodshed was over, a routine fuckload of emotions churned her mind and stomach. She felt vaguely nauseous as she recalled the whole thing, including the way she’d kissed Johnny back and the ardent desire she felt for him even now. How had she gone from screwing River and telling him her past to making out with Johnny _again_ in the same day? She kept getting swept away by his enthusiam and gravity—her body was as traitorous as her mind. 

She knew that the Rockerboy wanted her, _needed_ her if that night was to be trusted, but she didn’t believe it was more than simply desire and loneliness. That wasn’t enough for her, though she knew she had shit way of showing it. Her constantly letting him kiss her wasn’t particularly convincing. But as much as she kept forgetting, especially when she worked alongside him like this, at the end of the day, this wasn’t her Johnny. 

V craved more from him than lust and camaraderie—his simple disregard of her relationship status proved that that was all he wanted. When he was in her head, Silverhand had snarked viciously at every moment of intimacy she’d experienced. At the time, she had thought he simply disapproved in her choice of lovers. But, after reliving over and over the sheer _yearning_ he’d shown her in cyberspace, she realized the Rockerboy had been jealous. Jealous of the one night she’d shared with Judy. Jealous of the relationship she decided to start with River. 

She wanted that from him again—jealousy, yes, but above all, longing. That terrible hunger and fondness she, herself, suffered for him. And, beneath his thirst for her, V didn’t see that. 

She had to set things straight, before she fell completely for a man that couldn’t giver her what she wanted and ruined the love she already received. 

As futile as it felt in a place like Night City, V wanted her happy ending.

The pair stepped onto the cracked asphalt towards Johnny’s Porsche, but instead of stopping, V tilted her head at the water-tower above it. “Let’s review the files up there.”

“I’d rather sit my ass down, V.” He grumbled. 

“Come on.” She urged, stepping back and leaping. Her hand snagged the first rung of the broken ladder and she began climbing. A second later, she heard Johnny follow. 

Rusted steel creaked beneath her as she trailed alongside the rounded exterior of the tower. The view was subpar, especially if V compared it to the one she’d seen with River, but it did offer a good angle of the burning Militech warehouse. Completing the chaotic scenery were several NCPD cars and the odd firetruck loitering just beyond the lot. A small crowd was beginning to form beyond the holo-tape, somehow entranced with the smoldering wreckage. 

V halted at a rail-free section of the walkway and dangled her legs off the end. Johnny sat beside her, his elbow propped on his knee. His cig drooped from his lips as he regarded the busy scenary in front of them. “Pigs got here fast—corp probably called it in themselves.” 

“Maybe. Doesn’t seem like Militech’s style though.” 

Johnny shrugged. “Eh, forget it. Our job’s done. The data?”

“What, don’t want me to look and figure out the real reason we stole it?” 

“Go ‘head. You’ll probably be better at making sense of it anyway. Just need to know if a certain Dick Garcia’s on there.” Johnny paused, a smirk stretching his lips. “And, by _dick_ , I mean Richard.” 

V scanned through the files with a curious hum. There, in the personel folder, a single Garcia, R. appeared. She pulled it up. The document was a resume and manifesto in one, detailing Mr. Garcia’s position, experience, accomplishments, and assignments. _59 years old, Hispanic, Counterintelligence Executive._ Nothing in the file offered a hint at why Johnny wanted him. 

“Got him. What’s so special about the guy?”

“Can’t say.” Johnny replied bluntly. “All I can tell you is that he’s your moneymaker.”

V wrinkled her brows. “Not like you to be all secretive.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“No, you scream what you think and feel at everyone—in songs, in insults, in anything really.”

“It’s sexy how well you know me.” Johnny drawled. “Want to know me better?” 

V snorted, “Stop changing the subject. Don’t you think I deserve to know the hell’s going on with you?”

“Why? ‘Cause we chooms?” 

“Aren’t we?” She shot back. 

“Changed your mind ‘bout that real quick. Wasn’t it just a few days ago that I asked you that and you said, ‘Maybe’?”

“You’re a dick; I’m not helping your ass out anymore.” 

“And here I thought you wanted me to stay in Night City. Too bad.” 

“Told you I wanted to _help_ you find a reason to stay and it sounds like you already have one. Just hope it’s not another fruitless campaign. Doubt you’ll get another shot at being a Relic, with Arasaka on its knees.” 

Johnny considered her, taking a long drag of his joint. “What _was_ it like, having me in your head?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Consider me curious. You haven’t said much ‘bout it, aside from Pistis Sophia.” 

V pulled her legs up, resting her head against her knees. She didn’t know if he needed the truth, deserved the truth. It was an experience one wouldn’t understand without living through it and this Johnny hasn’t. The awfulness of that fact hammered at her, making her feel terribly alone. Having Silverhand’s psyche every step of the way had saved her from a darker fate. Knowing that killing herself would kill him too had been a lifeline like no other, especially when she’d discovered that she’d fallen in love with him. 

She realized, as she contemplated his question, that she wasn’t looking at the Rockerboy the way he deserved to be looked at; she was seeing him as a half-baked version of her Johnny. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t recall her or recall December but she blamed him anyway. Even when she knew she should abandon all hope, she _still_ thought he will one day wake up and remember everything. Remember that he cherished her. Remember that he chose to come back _for her._

While this Johnny did, perhaps, care for her one way or the other, it will never be the same. They didn’t have that bond and that history. 

V was alone. 

Knife by her heart, she forced out a response, “Pain in the ass. You never shut up about Arasaka and never stopped calling me a pussy. You know you tried to kill me once? Slammed my head against the window ‘till I knocked out.”

“If that’s true, why keep me around now? Hell, why save me in the first place?” Johnny demanded. 

“Cause you were still a _person_ —still deserved a second chance, asshole as you were.” V stood. “And you need to stop kissing me, Johnny. I’m not Alt, I’m not a joytoy. If we’re actually going to be friends, if that matters even remotely to you, you need to stop looking at me like something to eat.” She took a deep breath. “I gotta go; here’s the data.” 

V forced herself to look into his eyes, watching them glow blue as she transferred the files. 

“See you.” 

* * *

  
JULY 25TH 2078 - 10:27 PM 

Johnny Silverhand watched motionlessly as the mercenary dropped off the water tower and walked away, her back ram-rod straight. Something bitter filled his mouth at the sight of her leaving, at the sight of her Arch roaring into the gloom and leaving him behind. The hell was going on with her? She ran so hot and cold—first, she kisses him back like she wants it and, now, she’s, what, friendzoning him? 

It was obvious she could care less about her input, if she really had one, so why was she suddenly so determined to be _just chooms?_ Ugh. He exhaled, rubbing his face. Why the hell is he doing that anyway—kissing her like she’s the only one he’s ever wanted to kiss. The whole weekend had just been that exclusive, persistent urge; he hadn’t even gone out to try doing that with some other cunt. 

Every intimate thought demanded her, her, _her_. So what if she was the chick in his flashes? When was he the type to get involved with one person and one person only? Fuck, even with Alt, who he was at least eighty percent sure he was in love with, hadn’t been his only output. Yeah, his steadiest one by far, but not the only pussy he had at the time. So what was it about V that made him feel so fucking strange? He knew he wanted her in his life; she dulled that sharpness in him just by sticking around and she was, admittedly, a load of fun. 

Shit. 

The merc was right—if he wanted the pain to go away, he’ll have to stop lusting after her like a bitch in heat and treat her like Kerry instead. 

————

Afterlife was a hub of activity, as usual, as Johnny rolled to a stop outside. He caught the odd look or two as he entered Night City’s hottest mercenary clubhouse, wondering if his return to the land of the living has finally begun making waves around town. He paused at the bar and caught the eye of the curvy mixologist that ran it. _Claire,_ that was her name.

She awarded him with a soft smile. “Johnny Silverhand returns. What can I get ya’?” 

“My namesake. Rogue in?”

“Boss is always in. Go ahead, I’ll bring it to ‘ya.” He inclined his head in thanks, striding for Rogue’s usual spot.

A burly huscle barred his entry but Johnny just shoved him aside and stepped into the booth. Rogue was meeting with a pair of mercs, by the look of their stained clothes, and glanced up in annoyance at his intrusion. Her bodyguard reared behind him, ready to yank him back. 

“It’s fine.” The fixer said. “We’re done here, I’ll send you two the deets.” The mercenaries nodded simultaneously, casting him a curious look as they left. Johnny ignored them and took a seat, stretching his legs out onto the table. 

“You have it?” Rogue demanded. 

“Fuck you think I’m here for? A chat?” Johnny snorted. “Here.” He sent her the data he received from V and patted himself. _Damn it_ , he was out of smokes again. “You have a joint?”

“Shut up and let me see this.” Rogue took a heady gulp of her drink, implants flickering. “Shit, Johnny. You really did it.” 

He waved his hand dismissively. “More V, to be honest. Speaking of which, now that you got your special information, make sure to send her the eddies.”

“You didn’t tell her about this, right?”

“‘Course not, didn’t need you bitching at me. ‘Sides, she just ran off after.”

“Not a surprise, you aren’t exactly a walk in the park. Sure you don’t want any of it?”

“Nah, you know why I’m doing this.” He paused as the bartender appeared, tray in hand. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Another one, Rogue?”

“Bring the whole bottle.” The fixer replied, a rare smile on her face. “God, I can’t believe it. Forty fucking years and I finally have him.” 

“Couldn’t care less about your ex-input. Tell me you’re going to release everything, like you said.” Johnny took a sip of his cocktail, fixing a glare on her above the rim. “I want them out of my fucking city.” 

“You know it won’t be that easy. Arasaka might be suffering that backlash from whatever V did in there but the corp’s still got their fingers in everything. We’ll have to be careful with what we do with this. And, besides, when the hell did this become _your_ city again? Thought you wanted out.”

“Rogue, you got me fucked up if you think I’ll let you trade the data to another asshole in a suit.”

The Queen of the Afterlife sighed, “I keep my promises, Johnny.” 

“I’ll hold you to it. Be seeing you.” He knocked back the rest of his drink, ready to leave when Rogue grabbed his arm. 

“Wait. How’s V?”

“What does it matter to you? Didn’t think you guys were friends.”

“We’re not. Not really. But she’s done some good things for me and I like her. I hope you’re not screwing her.”

“And if I was? Jealous?”

“Hell no. Whatever we had died the day we nuked Arasaka, I made sure of— Nevermind. Just promise me you won’t mess around with her.” 

Johnny eyed his ex-flame, relaxing back in his seat. “What do you mean you made sure?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me, Rogue.”

She searched his face before answering slowly, “When you were still in her body, you asked me out on a date.”

“What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that she called me and said you wanted to take me out. I agreed, just to see what you were up to. V picked me up, said some nice things about you, and then let you use her body.” 

Johnny stared at her in shock. He dated Rogue as V? Performing in a concert was one thing but letting him use her to do whatever the fuck he wanted with his ex was another. He hadn’t thought there was anything more ludicrous than Pistis Sophia, meeting Kerry, and all of that. Just what the hell was this merc hiding from him still? 

“Did we…?” 

“No. No, I stopped before anything further than a kiss happened. Like I said, Johnny, there’s nothing like that left between us.”

“I know. What I don’t understand is why that even happened.”

“....She changed you. Back then, there wasn’t a single person that wouldn’t talk shit about you—choom or otherwise. But...dammit Johnny, don’t use this for some dumb shit. If she hasn’t told you any of this, she probably did so for a reason.”

“Told me what, Rogue? All I could get out of her is how much she doesn’t like me, yet everything I learn and even the things she does goes against all of that. I’ve never met a more confusing bitch.” 

“Listen, she had nothing but good things to say about you on that drive. However, that wasn’t even the thing that surprised me the most. It was her...expression. She’s normally so stone-faced that I was shocked, honestly, when I saw her look that way.” 

“Look what way?”

Rogue shook her head, pouring herself another finger of liquor and downing it. “Can’t even describe it really but the closest thing I can say it looked like? Tenderness—as if you needed to be cared for. The idea’s so ludicrous it makes me laugh.”

“Fuck you, Rogue.” Johnny said, though without much heat. He sunk further into the booth. The fuck did all this mean? _Tenderness?_ People usually talked about him with an exasperated or vexed tone, certainly not anything like _that._ He’s never particularly minded—he gave fuck all about people’s opinions. Always gotten along fine with or without them, got along fine with the animosity. So, was Rogue right? Had V _changed_ him?

No one could do that. Every output, up ‘till the end, tried to do that. Made him feel like a defected machine that needed to be stripped for parts and utterly overhauled. But from what the merc had said, he’d still been a pain in the ass, so he must not have been too different after all. Of course, with all this information he kept learning from other people, was she still trustworthy? She was keeping something from him, something more than just memories. Something deeper, something that explained the ache in his chest. 

What the fuck was it? And why was she so determined to keep him at arms-length? And if she did change him, why wasn’t she trying to change him now? 

He squeezed his temples, suddenly overwhelmed. “Have anything else to regale, Rogue?”

“No.” He could feel the heat of her regard and raised his head. 

“Just spill it.” 

“Promise me, Johnny. Don’t fuck up her life. She’s already been through ‘nuff shit without you messing in it.” 

“The fuck can I possibly do to her? She barely talks to me as it is.”

“She’s in a nice place. Making tons of eddies and she’s with a good guy—don’t ruin it for her. She’s already saved your life, let V live hers.” 

“I don’t need your lectures, cunt.”

“No, I think you do, Johnny.” Rogue snapped, face hardening. “Everything you touch goes to hell and, now that you’re back, you’re going down that rabbit hole again. Everything’s about you and what you want. Leave V out of it. I shouldn’t have told you shit about her. It might be her choice to remain whatever the fuck you guys are but you should’ve left Night City the first chance you had.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now Johnny knows that V might actually LIKE him, even though he’s just so completely oblivious to the feelings of love that he can’t figure it out just yet.
> 
> V, on the other hand, is beginning to realize that this Johnny isn’t quite the one she wants and loves, so where does that leave us? 
> 
> Suppose we shall see :)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave me your thoughts. They make me happy and spur my inspiration behind this story. See you next time.
> 
> Edit: Okay, this story’s length is still up in the air. I’m not entirely sure when it will end but it’s been updated to have 14 chapters as of today. However, while I would like to reassure you of a happy ending between our two characters, I would also like to point out that our leads are complex and amnesia isn’t a walk in the park. Both of them need a healthy dose of honesty and Johnny is still in the process of understanding his flashes. Please don’t worry!


	11. need a way to set it straight (PART 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I just told you she had a hot boyfriend, so I doubt it’s just her scratching an itch by letting you fuck around. You should talk to her—actually talk, not argue ‘till one of you storms off like I know you like doing.” 
> 
> “When did you become a relationship counselor?” Johnny asked dryly. Because, fucking hell, he was actually considering Kerry’s words. Why was she so hot and cold and why the hell has he never thought to ask? Never thought to sit her ass down and demand what they’d been to one another? 
> 
> Could it really be that simple? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've finally reached the scene that inspired me to do this fic in the first place and it's getting too long. Therefore, I've decided to split chapter 11 into two parts. This is the first.
> 
> The second will be out soon after this one, so look forward to it. 
> 
> As always, enjoy, and thank you for the support.

JULY 29TH 2078 - 3:40 AM

Something had changed. 

In the fabric that weaved them together, there was a tear that kept getting longer. The week crept by and the hours melded together in a blur of red and black. 

From the outside, it appeared as if nothing was different. V didn’t avoid him; rather, she asked him to join in this and that—determined to prove that she was strong enough to be with him without actually _being_ with him. He quipped, they bickered, and things felt okay. Gigs got done and eddies were made. 

Except, when he thought that she wouldn’t notice, Johnny just...watched her. They were always at least six inches apart and neither made a move to breach the distance. So, the only thing she felt from him this week were his eyes. The sheer weight of them on her skin. On the back of her head. On the curve of her lips. And the depth of his gaze was constantly unreadable. 

Once or twice, she demanded to know why. And every time he responded curtly, “Just trying to figure you out.” Never anything more than that and he always returned to his usual vexing self after. It confounded her. Frustrated her like nothing else, ‘till each night was like tonight’s—utterly restless.

V was at River’s, the familiar room steeped in what she called early morning melancholia. A strange rift in time where life was suspended between the pleasures of the night and the clarity of the day—an anomaly for which most slept, drank, or slaved away. She did neither, tossing and turning beside the oblivion that was River, his chest rising and falling beneath the duvet like a man content in his reality. God, was she envious of him. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to get at least an hour or two of sleep in when a buzzing forced them open again. Someone was calling her. Her implants connected to her holo and a contact image flickered into view—Kerry Eurodyne. V chewed on her lip. Did she want to talk to the rocker right now? She spoke to him several days ago, when she’d dropped Johnny off back at his place. He’d given her a huge hug, berated her for not taking his calls, and swore she wasn’t getting away with not telling her Silverhand was alive this whole time. 

But would he be calling at this hour if it was just a scolding? She sighed, getting up and heading out of the house. “Hello?”

Kerry’s broad smile appeared on her optics. “V! Didn’t think you’d answer at this time. What you doing awake?” 

“Could ask you the same thing, Kerry. What’s up?” 

“Well, good shit. Real good shit. You remember that album I was talking to you ‘bout? The one I’ll be releasing when I get back on tour with the _Us Cracks?_ ”

V raised a brow. “That what you doing right now? Bit late isn’t it.”

“Inspiration doesn’t care about rest! ‘Sides, that’s not exactly what I’m calling about right now. I wanted to invite you to a small get-together at my place.”

“Are you going to tell me what it’s about or should I assume we’re burning down something else?” 

“Ah, it’s a happier moment. No vengeance and diving into the bay. No, I want you to show up tomorrow for dinner. ‘Round eight.”

“Kerr—”

He waved a finger. “Nope! No rejections. You gotta show up or I’ll keep my grudge against you. I’m real good at that. Besides, what can you possibly be doing? _Another_ gig? No, stop working for a second and bring your input to a nice dinner at good ole’ North Oak. Alright?”

“My...input?”

“Mhm, don’t act like you don’t have one. Damn, what was his name? Lake? No.” Kerry glanced away as a familiar voice shouted into the phone. 

“What’s taking you so long? I wanna finish this.” _Johnny._

“Alright, alright. Calm down, asshole. Ok, where was I? Oh, yeah. What was his name again?”

“River.” V paused. _The hell were these two up to?_ “Uh, Kerry, what are you two doing right now?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow when you show up. Okay, you and River. Eight o'clock. See you then.”

His face blinked from existence, leaving V alone on the porch. She stared down at her holo, somehow more confused than she was earlier. She was going to dinner at Kerry Eurodyne’s mansion on the weekend, with... _River_? 

Of course, that wasn’t happening. The P.I. wasn’t going to accept that ludicrous, out of the blue, invitation. 

————

JULY 29TH 2078 - 10:08 AM

“Sure. I’m down.” River replied, grinning as he sipped his coffee. The two were in his kitchen, leaning against the countertops as V finished telling him about that strange phone call. 

She paused, lowering her mug. “What? Did you not hear what I said? It was weird—I don’t know what he’s planning. Probably some weird music tasting, or whatever celebrities do.”

“Honestly, babe? I couldn’t care less. Anything to get you to have some fun _without_ killing someone, I’d say, is a victory.”

“You really make murder sound like my hobby—it’s a job. And I don’t kill everyone when I work.” 

“You know I’ve offed some people in my lifetime, it comes with being a general Night citizen and former cop, but...V, you’re a glorified assassin addicted to adrenaline.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t pay like it. Are you criticizing my lifestyle right now?”

River laughed, setting down his cup and gathering her in his arms. He swept her fringe from her eyes, teasing, “Would never. I just think you should take many more days off. You’ve worked like, what, more than two gigs a day the last week? I don’t see where all those eddies go.”

“Retirement fund.” V leaned against his chest, tasting her next words before she said them. “You do know Johnny Silverhand’s going to be there.”

“Your terrorist?”

“Be serious, River. He’s a dick but still my choom.” Her choom. How fucking weird was it to say that out loud. Was that what they were—from parasite and host to just...friend and friend? Easier to say _that_ than otherwise, she suspected. 

However, V didn’t feel particularly comfortable with the idea of these two meeting, partly because of her guilt and partly because she doubts they’d even get along. River had a relatively calm temperament, but Johnny was an instigator of giant proportions—he could piss off a stone statue. She suppose she should be glad that the Rockerboy didn’t remember him. 

“Well, as long as you like him, I’m sure we’ll get along. I do well with Judy and Panam.” 

“ _I_ don’t even get along with Johnny, River.”

“From what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t seem to like anyone.” River pushed up her chin. “What’s going on? Sounds like you don’t want me to go.”

_You have no idea._ “It’s not that. Not really. I just don’t want you to be miserable—I have no idea who else will be there. Could just be Kerry and Johnny, could be a bunch of other wealthy, narcissistic stars.”

“Best I be there then, just to keep my homicidal girlfriend sane.” He chuckled, kissing her head. “I should wash up, promised a client I’ll meet with her today. Wanna come with?”

V smirked. “What? Didn’t get enough last night?” 

“Never enough, babe.”

She shook her head, as appealing as the idea sounded all she could think about now was this dinner. “No, I should head out too. Meeting Judy for lunch; apparently, she’s got some big news to spill. Text you later, ‘bout tomorrow?” 

“Sure. Have a good one, V.”

* * *

JULY 29TH 2078 - 9:15 PM

“Nervous?” 

Johnny glanced up from the ax in his hands as Kerry passed him a glass. “What about?”

“Our lil’ showcase tomorrow. Been a while since you’ve played in front of people, right?” He mused as he collapsed onto the sofa opposite of him. His old bandmate propped his feet up, wrinkling the mess of sheets, smokes, and liquor strewn across the coffee table. 

“When have you’ve ever known me to be chicken-shit ‘bout anything?” 

Kerry scoffed, shooting his drink and grabbing his own guitar. “Think a healthy dose of nerves would do you good. Make you a bit easier to be around.” He plucked at his instrument, humming nonsensically for a moment. “You know, even though you’re crashing here, you can still bring a plus one.” 

“Hmph.” Johnny tuned the strings of the ax, fingers cascading down the wires like water. “And who would I bring?” 

“I dunno; that chick Rogue? I mean she scares me a little bit but weren’t you guys a thing?” 

“Not anymore. ‘Sides, she isn’t one for these sorta things.” 

“Maybe you should find someone who is.” He glanced up with a quirked brow. Was Kerry doing what he thought he was doing?

“Want me outta your hair so you can bang your manager?”

“He’s _Us Cracks’,_ for god’s sake. But _yeah_ , maybe I do.” Kerry sighed, laying his guitar flat in his lap and pinning him with a severe look. “Jokes aside, aren’t you tired of fucking around? You’re not getting any younger.”

“I’ve been awake two weeks, Kerr; I’m physically younger than you now and I don’t see you settling down.”

“I think about it sometimes. Like I enjoy my life just fine but, damn, is being a big name lonely as fuck. I know you’re not big on relationships but...I remember Alt. You liked being with her, why not find someone else? Best time to do it.” 

Johnny snorted, “You know we were like two seconds away from ending things before ‘Saka snatched her? Pussy was ‘preem but she was just like everyone else—always out to fix me and look where that got her.” 

“Wanting better for you isn’t ‘fixing,’ Johnny. And I thought those motherfuckers took her ‘cause she was a netrunner. It isn’t your fault.” 

But wasn’t it? Johnny stared down at his hands, recalling the blood he’d gotten on them for beating the crap out of that slimy journalist. Recalled the numbness he felt for having been too late to save her. He didn’t exactly have a great track record of relationships, what good could another one be? It grated at him to even think about what Rogue said the other night but the truth of it was undeniable—he fucked up everything, it was only a matter of time. 

Hell, didn’t he already screw things up with V just by waking? She’s never said it explicitly but he knew she was angry at him for his amnesia. For forgetting whatever transpired between the two of them. The flashes that he’s been having this week…they confused the fuck out of him. How could he possibly coincide that somber, tender woman with the confusion that was the mercenary he knew? 

Every time she’d invited him on a job this week, he couldn’t but stare and wonder what changed. Was it just because he couldn’t remember shit?

“What’s V’s input like?” Johnny found himself asking. He pushed his guitar aside and reached for his glass of whiskey. 

“You haven’t met him? Figured you would’ve since you’ve been out with her.”

“Don’t even know the guy’s name.”

“Apparently it’s River. Haven’t met him myself but I’ve seen a picture or two and heard some things. Hot, nice, and, apparently, an ex-cop.” 

_“Christ, V. Can’t believe you’re makin’ me fuck a cop.”_ Johnny rubbed his temples. Another flash? Wait, what did Kerry just say? 

“ _V,_ of all people, is dating a pig?”

“Eh, former one. He’s a private investigator now apparently. They’ve been together, what, nearly a year? He took her out of the city to find some cure for her condition after what happened at Mikoshi and then they came back. V’s never went into specifics but she’s healthy now so I assume they found something out there.” Kerry raised his glass. “Can’t wait to meet the fucker.” 

“Never pegged her for a relationship chick, especially not with a cop.”

“Mm, she’s never called him her input or anything but looks like they’re steady. Why all the questions? She hasn’t said anything to you?”

“No. It’s harder to get her to open up than, fuck, anything. Spent hours with her, yet you and Rogue’s told me more about her than she ever did.” 

“Girl’s secretive, what can I say? Far as I know, she just does her gigs, sleeps, and fucks. If anything, you probably know her better than anyone else in Night City. Or you did, ‘till you forgot everything.” 

“Do you— I mean, did we get along?” 

“Who? You and V? Think so, real ‘nova too. Had each others’ backs, whatever the fuck that means when you’re in her head. As I said, she made you more bearable.” 

“Wait, not like you to be askin’ after someone like this. Don’t tell me you _like_ her.”

That was the least Johnny felt for V. Everything was confusing but, yeah, he _liked_ her. It was surprising to feel that way towards someone he didn’t care one ounce for in the beginning, towards someone that riled him up more than he remembered anyone else doing so. Hell, he got off on that shit—arguing, then making up. A common staple in any Johnny Silverhand relationship. He didn’t need to like anyone to kiss them, fuck them.

But, he genuinely liked V as a person—regardless of memories or pain relief. He didn’t recall ever wanting to be around someone this much. The ferocity of it scared him shitless; the last time he remotely felt this way, things ended up disastrously. Maybe it was good that she set boundaries, good that she had an input. If he could just...stay by her side, wasn’t it worth it? 

“Hey.” Kerry leaned forward, snapping in his face. 

He slapped the man’s hand away. “Does it matter if I like her?” 

“You’re serious? Like you actually _like_ her.”

“Are you deaf from all these years of fucking around, Kerr? What did I just say?”

“I can’t believe this. Is this why you said we should have a preview party? So, you could get V to come and serenade her?”

“You suggested that.” Johnny pointed out flatly, downing his drink. “All I said was why not invite her, seeing how you’re friends. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s defensive Johnny, I’d know him anywhere. Holy shit and I told her to invite River. Should’ve said something!”

“None of this matters, Kerry. We’re chooms. That’s it. Hardly different between me and you. ‘Sides, she’s already told me to stop making moves on her.” 

“And you’re going to listen? Maybe you’re more like post-V Johnny than I thought.” Kerry leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Why would she even turn you down? She liked you ‘nuff when you were killing her, so why not be with you now?”

“Never asked her to.”

“And why not? What could possibly be stoppin’ you?” 

“You’re asking a fuckload of questions, Kerr, that I don’t feel like answering.” He plucked a loose joint from the table and lit it. Kerry watched him take a drag, then two, finally silent. Nicotine heady in his chest, Johnny closed his eyes. “...You said it yourself. V liked me when I was in her head. When I knew and felt what she was going through. Now, I don’t.” 

“Ah shit, thought you were getting some of it back?”

_Shockingly hot, her slender yet callused fingers held onto his—her silver optics strangely comforting._

_The silk of her hair on his shoulder as she coughed up more blood, holding onto him desperately._

_Wind and sun and her excited screams as they careened down the tracks._

_The numbness on her face as she stared at the dead woman in the tub, hand on her choom’s shoulder._

_A dark room. His guitar strumming a recent song and her feet following the beat, arm pressed against his._

_A booth, then a chair, occupied by her as she stared up at him with a resolute expression: “Do it.”_

Kerry was right—he was getting _some_ of it back. Snatches in time that he couldn’t place or understand, all belonging to a past he didn’t have. What was the point, if he didn’t remember it all? Remember why they’d been so special?

It wasn’t enough.

“What? Did you just say they aren’t enough?”

Johnny shook his head, not realizing he said that out loud. “Yeah.”

“And you said she told you to stop hitting on her?”

“Wasn’t hitting on her.” He shrugged. “More like, kissing her.”

“And she let you?”

“What are you tryna say?”

“Johnny, a woman like V—an all-around badass that can literally stab a gonk before they can blink—let you kiss her. And more than once, it sounds like, and you think she doesn’t like who you are now? Never thought you were this big of an idiot.”

“Fuck off. What does a kiss or two matter? Isn’t like I woke up ugly and boring.”

“And I just told you she had a hot boyfriend, so I doubt it’s just her scratching an itch by letting you fuck around. You should talk to her—actually **talk,** not argue ‘till one of you storms off like I know you like doing.” 

“When did you become a relationship counselor?” Johnny asked dryly. Because, fucking hell, he was actually considering Kerry’s words. Why _was_ she so hot and cold and why the hell has he never thought to ask? Never thought to sit her ass down and demand what they’d been to one another? 

Could it really be that simple? 

If it was, why hasn’t she done just that? 

Of course, he knew V was shit at opening up—Kerry, more or less, confirmed that—and she did have an input. Perhaps, it was up to him to confront everything; he can play his cards for once and let her decide. Let her figure out whether or not they were friends or more; meanwhile, he might begin to understand his current flashes or experience more of them, enough to stitch them together and deduce his lost past. 

It’d be a mystery solved. A loose end tied, regardless of the conversation’s outcome, and one less thing to wonder about when it was time to confront what he wanted to do next. 

Either way, Johnny will find a way to stay by V’s side, choom or otherwise, and hopefully discover more about himself directly from the source.

“When I realized that you needed to get the hell out of my house.” Kerry snarked. He pulled out another decanter of alcohol and held it up the light. “Let’s run through the songs one more time and I’ll let you keep this.” 

“Not much of a bargain for you,” Johnny replied, grabbing his guitar. “You know I’ll get some of that anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part's a party! Kind of! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. need a way to set it straight (PART 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V held her breath as the world faded, leaving only him as he raised his head and stared back at her.
> 
> This time, Johnny’s eyes weren’t obscure—instead, they blazed like the sun.
> 
> Shone like the moon. 
> 
> Gleamed like the stars. 
> 
> In his eyes, the universe held its breath and then shattered, until all that was left was her own reflection.
> 
> Until all she saw was the face of a woman that loved Johnny Silverhand and the face of the man that knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the homestretch guys! This is definitely the more delicious part of Chapter 11/12 and I can't wait for you to read it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

JULY 30TH 2078 - 7:50 PM

Pinprick stars were scattered across the sky, disappearing beneath the stray cloud wisp or commercial AV, as V steered River’s Mackinaw through the winding hills of Westbrook. As usual, Night City was in its full, dawn-to-dusk glory from this height, holo ads and searchlights rioting against the stars. At this distance, the metropolis seemed like a pleasant dream—free from the crime and violence that lurked within. 

V would trade anything to be among that horror now.

Her gut was roiling at the thought of this get-together and all it entailed—Johnny, socializing, and who knew what else Kerry was cooking up. It wasn’t like she was a shy introvert; in normal circumstances, she enjoyed conversation and the odd party. But, by normal, she meant ‘completely aware and knowledgeable of.’ She would never enter a situation so blind if she didn’t explicitly trust the man that’d organized it—surprises were entirely not her thing. Yet, here she was, driving right into it and with an unknown factor of her own—River. 

He was quiet in the passenger seat beside her, tapping against his leg to the beat of the radio. He’d dressed nice tonight, more formal than she’s ever seen him, in a pressed white dress shirt and dark blue jeans. A good look on him—one she prayed wouldn’t be ruined by whatever trouble was bound to happen tonight. 

V didn’t walk into a social event without something going wrong. She’d call it bad luck if she wasn’t normally the one causing it; and as much as she was going to try to be on her best behavior tonight, there was still Johnny Silverhand.

Thinking about him drove her pulse a little faster, hurt her heart a little harder. Specifically, that sharpness beside it. This was a good chance to settle things—make sure they were going to be friends. Just friends. It was a decision she’s agonized over all day. V knew she couldn’t keep toeing the line forever. She’s already kept so much from River and hoped too much from Johnny; if she kept going, there was a high chance of losing them both. 

The Rockerboy’s already shown that he could be on his best behavior. He hasn’t touched her once this week, aside from what occurred Monday, and, despite the ache of it, she hasn’t either. She persevered. Nothing short of a miracle was going to change her mind, not if she could help it. 

A large, solid hand stretched onto her thigh and gave her a comforting squeeze. “You’re thinking too much again.” 

V risked a quick, surprised glance at River. “How’d you know?”

“You’re hard to read sometimes but, when you’re stressing over something, you get the smallest furrow between your brows.” 

She touched the area, feeling warm (and a little chagrined) that he knew her so well. “And here I thought I was doing so well.” 

“Knowing you comes with the territory.” River replied, a sweet smile on his face. _Territory._ Right, he was heading to Kerry’s as her...boyfriend. V rarely ever thought of him that way, which caused its own sort of guilt, and preferred to think of him more of a partner. Which, in theory, meant he was more than a boyfriend; that held a ring of truth to it—she viewed him as something more complicated than a close friend and good lay—but also a louder peal of falsehood. 

Partner sounded permanent, sounded exclusive, and she’s certainly never thought of him like that. However, she hasn’t fucked or struck up any other romantic relationship with anyone else out of love and respect for him. 

Kissing Johnny, she felt, was an entirely different story. Though equally guilt-inducing as every other action and thought in her life, the space Silverhand occupied was unique. Therefore, whatever she did with him was unique, was circumstantial. He meant more to her than language can describe—after all, he was once in her head. How can one possibly define a bond like that? 

But this Johnny was also different. He wasn’t entirely the one that’d been a mate to her psyche, so he wouldn’t understand that her affection for him wasn’t just platonic or romantic or any of that. So, the best course of action was to keep things friendly between them—less fallout and less regret. Or so, V hoped.

She drove the truck up to the gate leading onto the Eurodyne grounds and pulled through as it opened after a brief scan. Several cars were present in the driveway, including a Porsche 911. She slotted behind Kerry’s own spotless Rayfield, hands tight on the wheel as she parked. She couldn’t recognize the other three cars and prayed they belonged to someone she knew. Hopefully, there won’t be more, seeing how she was a couple of minutes early. 

Music and neon flared out over them, _SAMURAI_ songs clearly audible even within the truck. The front door was wide open, a single sentry robot keeping guard beside it. No one went in or out as she watched. 

“This isn’t a job, you know.” River teased and leaned in to press his lips to her cheek. “No surveillance necessary.” 

_“Au contraire.”_ She muttered. “This might be the most dangerous situation I’ve gotten myself in.”

“Babe, you’ve raided Arasaka twice.” 

“I stand by my statement.” 

“Well, have I told you how nice you look tonight?” 

“Yes, you have—stop distracting me.” V rolled her eyes, touching the hem of her dress. It was a white and gold affair, a blend between her usual Neomilitarism and the luxury of Neokitsch, that hung above her knee. She’d worn it with a pair of fishnet stockings and a worn leather jacket, bought when she and Jackie were just groveling mercs. A shoulder harness kept her trusty revolver close at hand and, of course, she had her mantis blades. Not too formal nor too casual—with luck, she’s gauged the dress code right. 

She glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror and smudged her dark red lipstick a little. “Alright, let’s go.” Slipping into the dry night air, she waited for River to come around before grasping his shirt. His mouth twitched at her obvious panic. 

She kissed him hard, murmuring breathlessly after, “We can leave whenever you want.” 

He chuckled at her, grabbing her hands. “Babe, _relax._ Enjoy yourself for once.” 

V just shook her head and pulled away. _Here we go._

Composing herself, she lifted her chin and finally strode through the entrance—River on her heels.

A spotless terrain of marble, wood, and metal stretched before her in all directions. _Kerry actually tidied up for this._ “The Ballad of Buck Ravers” was booming from hidden speakers, drowning the voices of those milling around the grand piano at the center of the floor. _One, two, three, four, five heads._ None of them were Johnny. One turned at their arrival—Kerry Eurodyne in all his silver-haired glory, smile wide and a lock of hair brushing his brow as he marched towards them. 

“V! Right on time!” He gave her an affectionate pat, eyeing her outfit. “You look great! Haven’t seen you this spotless in awhile.” 

“Screw you, I can clean up nice. Honestly, it looks like we’re late seeing how there are already so many people here. Get-together huh?” 

“That’s exactly what this is—less than ten people is **not** a party, V. You going to introduce me to your man?” The superstar grinned, giving River a once over. 

“River Ward.” The man in question replied, shaking Kerry’s hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Kerry, and it’s good to meet you too. Was worried you weren’t going to show up—I know the invite was a little abrupt.”

V snorted. “That’s one way to put it. Who else is here? I see Nancy and Denny, the others?”

“The man in the sweater is Denny’s new input, Chase, and that, over there, is Miller.” Kerry beamed. 

“Wait, like _Us Crack’s_ Miller? Like ‘you won’t believe who I’ve met,’ Miller?” 

“One and only.”

“So, you guys are a thing now?” V eyed the famous pop group manager. He was tall and of medium build, dressed sharply in a blazer and trousers. “Good pick.”

“I do have great taste you know. Anyway, forget about that. You guys want a drink? There’s also some ‘preem food from a place in Heywood.” 

They followed Kerry to the spread by the huge windows, V greeting the other guests warmly. She liked Denny and Nancy, having met them several times since the performance at Red Dirt. And though the men were strangers, they had an affable air to them. She began to relax, taking a flute of champagne from the table and watching River chat smoothly with the group. She _wasn’t_ going to ask about Silverhand. 

Kerry lingered at her side, stuffing some hors d'oeuvres in his mouth and washing it down with a finger of tequila. “Your cop’s doing pretty well.”

“He’s good at small talk. I can’t believe he decided to come with though. He’s not a big alternative rock fan.” 

“Eh, the genre grows on you.” He wiped his fingers and pointed to his right, where a mock stage had been set up. She recognized the scruffed up guitar leaning against a sleek amplifier and struggled with the wave of nostalgia that swept her. “‘Sides, think tonight will shock both of you.” 

“Oh, you know me, I _love_ surprises.” V deadpanned, sipping her wine. 

“Don’t be a sourpuss, V. Trust me, we already got one of those around. Speaking of which, where the hell is he?” Kerry glanced upwards and she followed his line of sight to the second floor, pulse stuttering as she caught sight of Johnny. 

The Rockerboy was leaning against the glass balcony, face unreadable, as he met her gaze. How long has he been there? Her optics glitched, devouring the distance so she could make out his appearance. His dark hair had been slicked back—baring the sharp angles of his face and his groomed beard. A single silver hoop glinted in his ear, replacing the dangling earring he wore last. He’d donned an ink-black leather jacket and rolled up the sleeves to reveal his forearms and the beer that dangled from his chrome hand. 

Adamant to appear undeterred, even as her heart threatened to fly from her chest, she raised her glass to him. He returned her greeting with a tip of his beer and...a wink? Heat seared up her neck and into her cheeks. _Bastard._ She was lucky her complexion meant she didn’t blush. 

“Babe?” River ambled back to her side as Kerry excused himself to go talk to Johnny. He squeezed her waist as he grabbed a bite of something flaky. “Is that him?”

“One and only.” She muttered, turning to face him and draining her drink. “He’s a bonafide asshole, but don’t let him phase you. It’ll only make it worse.” 

The two former bandmates were now sauntering down the stairs, already bickering about something. She winced slightly as Johnny’s hoarse laugh reached her and she swore she could feel the force of him from here. But he didn’t approach her or River, just halted several feet away and parleyed with the others. 

“Think I should go say hi?” River mused after a satisfied swallow. “I’m curious to see what the big deal is about.”

_Nope, don’t do it._ “Might as well. I’ll come with.” He grabbed her hand and she held on limply, seconds away from digging her heels in, as he pulled her towards the rest. 

“—I’d get to hear the legendary Silverhand play again.” Chase enthused, arm slung around Denny’s shoulders. “Maybe I can convince all of you to play some hits tonight.” Wait, did he just say Johnny was playing later? That explained the ax by the stage, but not much else. As far as V knew, tonight was about Kerry’s new album. 

Johnny, leaning against the piano, sipped from his beer and made a noncommittal sound. He glanced up as they approached and his mouth twisted when he spotted their intertwined fingers. V didn’t know what to make of it. 

“Huh, didn’t peg you for a _SAMURAI_ fan.” Nancy said from her perch on the bench, “You look like a classical music guy, all Beethoven and Bach or something.”

“You’re not wrong but I’m a man of many tastes. How about you River, what’s your taste in music?” 

Pausing by Miller, who was speaking quietly to Kerry, River shrugged congenially. “Don’t really have one; I like whatever sounds good.”

“Of course,” Johnny said, plastering on a sardonic expression. “Night City’s finest never chooses a side.”

River raised a brow and reached over, offering his hand. “I’m a _former_ detective. River Ward.” 

The Rockerboy, taking another swig of his beer, just stared down at the gesture. “Johnny Silverhand, Night City legend.” 

Everyone guffawed, even River, but V could only look away. This was going to be a disaster.

* * *

JULY 30TH 2078 - 9:22 PM

An hour and a half ticked by, each minute astonishingly more bearable than V had initially assumed. She was having a good time, pleasantly full and buzzed, which said more about Johnny than the occasion itself. Not that tonight wasn’t enjoyable—the music, the food, and the company were all ‘nova. 

River certainly appeared to be entertained. He and Chase were getting along great. 

Problem was, she just couldn’t decide whether she was happier that Johnny hasn’t tried to speak with her, or not. He was well-behaved tonight, keeping most of his snark contained, and hasn’t gotten closer to her than a foot away. It was both alleviating and torturous at the same time—she hasn’t forgotten that she had to speak to him. Hasn’t forgotten that she had to deliver her decision. 

_No, this is good._ She decided as River sat beside her, arm sliding over her back of the sectional. He wasn’t heavy with the PDA, which was a relief since every time they were together she could feel Johnny’s dark gaze on her. Each look was cryptic and V couldn’t tell if she saw any disapproval or even jealousy. 

_Jealousy._

V had to stop thinking he gave a shit about her relationship. Suddenly, everyone’s presences were too much to bear. Stifling. Utterly, entirely stifling; her inebriation was beginning to shift into a bundle of nerves. She shot to her feet, drawing surprised looks from the others, and patted for Evelyn’s cigarette case.

River made to stand with her but stalled as she shook her head. “Babe?” 

“V, where you headin’?” Kerry called from behind her. “We’re going to start soon.”

“I just need a minute.” 

“‘Siddown, V.” Johnny drawled, voice deepening. “You don’t wanna miss this.”

She turned around, smiling, and gave him the finger. “I’ll be back, Kerr. Just start without me.” 

Skirting Nancy, who was returning to them with more booze, V made for River’s Thorton. How _dare_ he? His first words all night to just her and it was, what? An order? She palmed a joint and slipped it between her lips, only bothering to exhale when she had lungs full of smoke. Leaning against the truck, she cast a quick look at the entrance and didn’t know whether to be glad or upset that no one followed her out. 

V sighed. She was acting like a hothead. Just minutes ago she was fine, she was handling everything and felt completely grounded. So what was it that set her off? Then, it struck her. Bringing River here and having him meet Johnny was like a test—not only had it been a matter of ‘will they even get along,’ but it’d also been a matter of ‘will he give a shit.’ And, thing is, she had her answer now. 

Aside from his usual animosity, Johnny hadn’t done anything. He hasn’t even taken advantage of her smoke break to talk to her. _Fuck’s sake, I’m an idiot._ Consistently, up until the end, she was just a soft-hearted optimist praying that all will fall perfectly into place. Everyone not only lives but everyone will get an ideal, happy ending in her horror movie of a life. 

Who knew she’d be so illogical? 

She inhaled deeply, trying not to cry, when all of a sudden, the music cut off. She paused, waiting for it to resume, to play another screaming track when something entirely different began to play. At first, it wasn’t familiar—just Kerry’s melodic voice over a soft drum beat—when a memory from another day flared into being.

_“That song, that day on the boat with Kerry. Do you remember it? He was just playing and you appeared in the back to listen.”_

_“What makes you think I know whatever he was trying to do?” Johnny grumbled but his fingers began moving, plucking lightly at the conjured axe in his hands. His rendition of Kerry’s song was a little harder, a little faster, and entirely him._

_She wondered, shifting herself ‘till they nearly touched, how it was possible that this ghost in her brain was creating. Creating not only new music and melody but also emotions in her that she hasn’t felt in such a long time._

_Johnny must’ve heard her thoughts because he stilled, peering at her beneath his thick lashes. “V, what are you thinking?”_

_“You know what I’m thinking.” She whispered into the dark. She wished she could feel him, wished, idiotically, that a malfunction would occur so she can lean into him and never leave._

_Wished she wasn’t falling in love with a man she couldn’t have._

Her cigarette fell to the floor, ashes scattering. 

V’s stride ceased just beyond the front door—she hadn’t even realized she’d moved. 

Sitting on the stage amplifier and strumming his ax, was Johnny. Note by note, playing exactly as he did on the night she was contemplating her end. 

V held her breath as the world faded, leaving only him as he raised his head and stared back at her.

This time, Johnny’s eyes weren’t obscure—instead, they blazed like the sun.   
  


Shone like the moon. 

Gleamed like the stars. 

In his eyes, the universe held its breath and then shattered, until all that was left was her own reflection.

Until all she saw was the face of a woman that loved Johnny Silverhand and the face of the man that knew it.

* * *

JULY 30TH 2078 - 10:00 PM

V was a deer in headlights, refusing to move from where she stood. The preview concert was finally over, leaving the audience clustered on the main floor and drinking to the hopeful success of Kerry’s new album. Johnny stayed seated on the amp, sipping another beer and watching the mercenary respond mechanically to each and every word. 

Her pig of an input was beside her, arm around her waist, and watching her like V was what made his world spin around. The sight grated at him—who was River to think he deserved her? No one deserved her. She was more than that, better than either of them warranted. 

Yet, now, Johnny knew. Knew why she never refused his advances and why she pleaded for him to stay. 

V—the badass, cold-hearted Reaper of Night City—was in love with him. 

So why the hell wasn’t she budging from the room? Normally, he’d just say ‘fuck it’ and grab her hand but something told him that’d be the wrong move. That would only make her shut-down and be stupidly stubborn and he definitely won’t be able to get his answers then. No, Johnny had to wait until she was ready.

Hell knew where he was getting this newfound patience. 

He finished his beer, thinking back on the song he performed for her. When he first played it here, to attract Kerry’s attention, he’d thought it was an invention of his own; then, he did it again, and his old bandmate proceeded to ask him why he knew it if his memories were gone. 

That same night the flash of the dark room recurred and confirmed itself as a memory. An actual slice of his forgotten past that was whole and made sense. He treasured it like he’s never treasured anything else. 

Beyond that, he didn’t know how to feel about all of this. He was still a shell of a man, on the road to recovery, yes, but still incomplete. If someone asked him again if he liked V, he still wouldn’t know what to say. His emotions and thoughts for her were so complex; a tangle of aches that refused to be unraveled. 

But his _need_ for her was unaltered.

Before tonight, he’d thought it’d be easy to just be chooms with this woman. At least, then, he’ll be able to see her and speak to her. Now? He wasn’t so sure—how could he possibly be in her presence and not _want_ her? It’s already been hell today, hell this entire week. The intensity of it gnawed at him, like lyrics that refused to be sung. 

He could count on one hand how often he’s felt this way and, each time, he’s managed to achieve or overcome it. This situation was hardly different—Johnny just hoped V agreed with him. 

Bastard or not, he’s never forced anyone. Doing so never made a single person happy. 

“You alright, V?” Kerry’s voice cut through his contemplation and he glanced up. His friend was holding V’s arm and peering at her face. “You look sick.” 

“No, I’m fine. Sorry, Kerry. It was a good event tonight.”

“Did you like the songs?”

“Even if you just screamed, it’d be good. Thanks for inviting us.” V smiled weakly. 

“As long as everyone enjoyed themselves.” Kerry exchanged a look with River. “Why don’t you guys head home? River looks beat.”

“Long cases for me lately.” The ex-cop lied, plain as day, but no one batted an eye—even V who seemed to know this was all an excuse. “Want to head back?”

V didn’t even look in Johnny’s direction before replying, “Sure. Thanks, Kerry. I’ll see you guys around?”

A chorus of good-byes and ‘nice to meet you(s)’ and then the couple was leaving. 

_Over my dead body._

  
————

It was a cowardly move, but River and Kerry’s badly devised plan worked in her favor. V couldn’t possibly talk to Johnny right now. Her mind was teetering towards the edge of insanity. She forced herself to walk off without River’s aid and was nearly out the door when a shadow reared up beside her and blocked her way.

Johnny looked furious, his entire frame vibrating with tension as he stared down at her. He’ll follow her all the way back to Watson if she didn’t hear what he had to say. 

_Fuck._ Fate never worked in her favor, did it? 

She sighed, steeling herself. “River, could you wait in the car?”

“Are you sure?” He touched her cheek gently, shooting the Rockerboy a glare. 

“Yes. I’ll be fine.” V waited for the P.I. to leave before gazing up at Johnny. “What do you want?”

He crossed his arms. “Stupid question from a smart woman. We need to talk. I’m using your room, Kerry.”

The rockstar glanced between the two of them, ascertained that he shouldn’t get involved, and replied, “Uh, okay?”

Johnny gestured in the direction of Kerry’s bedroom. V stalked towards it, her moment of weakness dissipating beneath a stronger emotion—anticipation. If Silverhand wanted to talk, then so be it. She hoped he enjoys disclosing his feelings too because she wasn’t the only one spilling tonight _._

He sequestered them inside the room, shutting the doors behind him and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

She mirrored him. “What do you want?” 

“Did you recognize the song?” 

_Huh?_ “What are you talking about?”

“The first song I played with Kerry. Do you remember it?” His eyes were piercing, searching her face for the answer before she could say it. 

There was no point in lying now. “Yes.” 

“He told me that he played it for you on some rich cunt’s yacht. But I thought _I_ made it up, ‘till I remembered something.” 

V swallowed tightly. “What do you mean? You’ve told me multiple times that you have no memory of m— Of December.”

“I told you I had flashes. I wasn’t lying but they were random—glitches. Could never make sense of them, could never see the entire thing. But I saw enough to get to Red Dirt. And I saw enough several nights ago to know why I kept playing that song. It’s why I played it tonight. For you.” He glanced away during the last sentence, scratching his beard. 

This wasn’t possible; what she thought he was saying couldn’t be real. Not only is Johnny confessing that certain memories are emerging but he’s also confessing that he performed tonight, after years of not doing so, for _her?_

“What do you remember, Johnny? About the song.” Her voice was trembling—every inch of her was imploring her to leave before this conversation ruined her. Like clockwork, hope simmered in her chest and reawakened her old pain. 

“We were in an apartment, sittin’ in the dark. There was a thunderstorm outside and, for once, I didn’t have to ask you for a cig—you just started smoking. Then you asked for me to play you a song.” 

“...Kerry’s song.”

“Yeah.” 

V’s arms fell and she clutched the hem of her dress. He couldn’t possibly recall even… “Anything else?”

“...Think you already know,” Johnny said quietly. He stepped forward, pausing to see if she retreated, before stepping forward again. Her throat ached—she **had** to hold back the tears. “V—” 

She exhaled shakily, “Just tell me.” 

“Heard you think something when I played. Just a...blink. Went so fast that I could barely catch it and I think I didn’t want to.” He tore his fingers through his hair. “‘Cause, it screwed me up.” 

“Why? Why would it do that?”

“ _Fuck_ , V. What do you think? I was a fucking voice in your head; a fucking engram killing you and I couldn’t stop it. What the hell was I supposed to do when you—”

“When I thought I was in love with you.” She completed, a tear running down her cheek. “When I told you.” 

Johnny shook his head, looking away from her again. “You didn’t want me to know.”

“But I knew you would.” She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in, crushing her mouth against his. Tears fell like stars from her eyes—blazingly hot and consuming everything in their path. She choked out a cry against his lips, “ _Kiss me back, you idiot._ ”

So he did. 

Johnny’s arm seized her waist, pulling her against every inch of him as he swept away her heartache. His hand, torturously hot, grasped her nape, and, for a second, she feared he was trying to pull her away. But he only turned her head to kiss her deeper, rougher. Every sweep of his tongue and every prick of his teeth sent shivers down her spine and pooled heat in her core. 

He broke their kiss. She gasped into the silence of the room, clutching onto him as he traced his lips down her neck, marking as he went. His hands gripped her jacket, yanking it from her shoulders, and suddenly she was falling. 

Her back landed on what had to be Kerry’s bed and Johnny followed her down, reclaiming her mouth. V arched into him, pushing open his coat and exploring the contours of his chest beneath his thin tee. 

Skin. She needed to feel his skin. 

Johnny must’ve thought the same because, suddenly, his fingers were beneath the straps of her dress, shoving them down until he bared the swell of her breasts. She snatched at his shirt, moaning softly when her fingers finally traced the tautness of his abdomen. He stilled, growing tense as she trailed lower and lower. 

Each stifled breath in her ear only made her bolder. Hotter. _God,_ did she want him. She tugged at his pants, just above his belt buckle, and Johnny groaned—the sexiest sound she’s ever heard. _“V.”_

He took her again, slotting his lips against hers and kissing her so thoroughly she hoped he would never stop. His hands trailed to her waist, squeezing, and jerked her upwards. He ground himself against her, already painfully hard beneath his pants, and V’s mind blanked. _Could there be anything better than this? This moment right here?_

“Johnny, I—” 

A persistent vibration interrupted her train of thought and she blindly patted herself, searching for her holo. Johnny grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with his chrome hand and searched for it himself with the other. Retrieving it from her pocket, Johnny’s expression darkened.

* * *

**RIVER WARD**

* * *

Her optics linked with her holo and she swallowed as River’s contact image materialized before her. 

V broke Johnny’s slackened hold and pushed backward, answering. “Ye-yes?”

River appeared, the lines on his face easing when he saw her. “Are you alright? You’re taking a while.”

She glanced at Johnny. He’d risen to his feet and now watched her with a brooding intensity. “I’m fine. The...conversation’s just taking awhile. But I’ll be right out.”

“Okay, I’m waiting.” 

V smiled shakily and hung up. 

Johnny crouched, setting a solid hand on her knee. He tilted her face up and held her gaze. “Stay, V.” 

She wanted to, she really fucking did, but she couldn’t. “It’s not fair to him.”

“ _Screw him!_ Who the hell gives a damn about him?” 

V bristled. “ _I do._ He treats me way too well and loves me way too much for me to just do this to him. I can’t, Johnny. Don’t be selfish.” 

The Rockerboy scoffed. He began pacing, his hands clenched like he wanted to hit something. “You’re calling me selfish? What do you want me to do, then? Wait around like a good bitch while you make up your fucking mind?” 

She shook her head, fixing her jacket and standing up. The truth in his words stung _,_ but didn’t she deserve to be waited for too? After all, she waited eight months for this. For him. For them.

Johnny can wait for her a little longer. 

V stepped towards him, stopping him in his tracks and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. He stood motionless, face shuttering. It hurt to see the affection and desire in him wink out but she couldn't do anything more. 

“I have to go. I’ll call you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? I hope this chapter ended up being sweeter and more hopeful than the rest since we're approaching the end. 
> 
> Let me know your reactions!
> 
> And, as always, thank you for reading!


	13. the escape and the chase is now one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whaddaya want?” He muttered, taking another drag. Memories from early this morning eased back, taunting him. “Thought I told you I wasn’t interested.” 
> 
> The woman giggled, propped her chin in her hand. “Obviously. I mean you couldn’t even say my name right.” 
> 
> Johnny stiffened. “...The hell you mean?”
> 
> “Don’t tell me you don’t remember? We were bouta get down to business and you came real close and I thought ‘Oof, this man’s a find,’ but then you whispered my name wrong. Wrong letter, not even close to mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> A little apprehensive about releasing conclusion chapters because I can never satisfy everybody, which sucks, but I hope you guys enjoy this one.
> 
> Also, in regards to the comments on my last chapter, I would like to express that they are welcome. I like the idea of this fic warranting discussion and analysis. The only thing I would like to point out that V is naturally an unreliable narrator, thus she may not come off as particularly likable(?) This wouldn't be much of a surprise to me because I don't think either she or Johnny are good people—I like that they're flawed, which, to me, makes their chemistry even better because it's about two flawed individuals finding love. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of that, happy reading!

JULY 31ST 2078 - 7:00 PM 

Cold fire ripped across her cheek and V snarled, burying the cyber-freak’s knife into his gut. She kicked away his crumbling body and leaped over the half-wall onto the thick steel beams that spanned the garage. The shooter’s beady red implants churned as V charged at her, fumbling her reload. Her mantis blades tore from her arms, ripping through her shirt sleeves, and into the chest of the shooter. Blood sprayed as she dropped the woman, soaking her arms and torso. 

A terrible silence befell the building—everyone was finally dead. V exhaled, retracting her blades, and tried not to wipe her face as she dropped back down onto the ground. Bodies were strewn across the space, slumped against cars or pooling life onto parking lines. She limped her way through the maze of carnage to the office where she’d killed the Maelstrom ringleader. Her usual Overture revolver was partially nestled beneath the ringleader’s cooling corpse and she sighed, retrieving the gun. 

Tonight was a bonafide disaster. 

At first, V had tried to do the gig stealthily, her usual means of handling things, but she’d gotten reckless. Clumsy. Too many thoughts were shooting through her head, each an avalanche on her nerves. She’d thought work would clear her head and leave her with enough resolve to forge forward. Instead, it’d just fucked things up harder and, now, her bonus was forfeit. 

_You’re an idiot._

She grabbed a dirty rag from the office desk, wiping herself as best as she could before downloading the data off the terminal. The files transferred over with a ping. Time to go. 

She slipped out from the back exit of the parking garage and into a tight alleyway strewn with refuse. A whimpering homeless woman rocked between two dumpsters and V sidled by without a glance, huffing on a MaxDoc. The world brightened and sharpened as she emerged onto the main street that bisected Kabuki from Little China. 

Leaning wearily against the broken gate that framed the alley entrance, she sent her retrieval to the fixer that’d contracted her. Her holo chirped almost instantly—Regina Jones confirming the completion of the gig. Funds were wired into her account, making her several grand wealthier as V pushed her way down the street. A light rain was beginning to fall, soaking her thin long-sleeve and making her completely miserable by the time she reached Jackie’s Arch. 

She was due at Judy’s for the braindance editor’s farewell dinner; it was the last time she’ll see her friend before she leaves for Oregon. It was doubtful that Judy would mind too much if she arrived completely filthy but V felt awkward even contemplating it—she didn’t exactly tell her that she was doing a job beforehand. Rather the opposite, really. After yesterday night’s fiasco, she’d called her early this morning to confirm tonight’s appointment and may or may not have let slip the state of her emotional well-being. The editor, being the best friend one could ask for, had offered to head over to V’s instead. She’d refused and promised she’d just take some time for herself before coming over—thus, implying that she would stay home and compose herself. 

The gash on her face said otherwise. It said, instead of resting up and contemplating her life like a normal individual, V chose to drown herself in the blood of insane, cybernetic gangers instead. Maybe River was right; maybe she was addicted to violence. 

_River._

She had to do it. 

Being with Johnny yesterday, hearing him talk about her, had been crushing. Crushing her resolve to end things with him and crushing _her_ for not having already ended things with River. Ridiculous as it sounded, V thought she could avoid all these decisions, avoid hurting the man that’d only been a comfort and happiness to her. Even avoid hurting herself, for having to make that choice. 

She had to do it and it should be easy, right? Kissing Johnny yesterday told her everything she needed to know—she had to be with him. Even if he’ll never remember everything, even if she didn’t know if he loved her. It was the right choice to make. 

Yet, why were her head and heart hurting so much? Why did she come out here and try to drown herself in an inconsequential job when she should’ve been gearing up to head to Judy’s? 

_Because River was safe. He is secure and he loves you, he’ll do anything for you._ V clutched her head. _Because Johnny is everything you need but he_ isn’t _safe_. _He’s a risk._

_So, what do you want more?_

“I don’t know.” V whispered, clasping her hands together. Rain was coming down in sheets now, soaking her to the bone. Each drop felt ice-cold, despite the summer humidity, and she began to shiver. It wasn’t comparable to say that she was as overwhelmed as she was when she was dying but it certainly felt that way. She missed feeling unflappable—being that stone-cold kid determined to make it big—but she also knew she wouldn’t be able to love as she did now. 

Adult life was a series of learning curves; breaking up with Yue, leaving Arasaka, hanging with Jackie, dying with Johnny, looking for the cure, being with River, and, now, struggling with the last two weeks, were all periods where she has and where she will emerge differently from the other side. Strange, maybe even trivial, to compare an emotional turmoil like this one to the life-death experiences she’s already had. But all of these periods have been tinged with the same colors—uncertainty and anticipation. The flavor of Night City. 

V rubbed her arms and started the Arch—dirty and soaked at Judy’s it was. 

————

To say the editor had been unsurprised about her appearance was an understatement. Judy took one look at her and just laughed, marching her into the bathroom with a pair of clothes before V could explain. Hot water drummed on her now, washing away her activities and, annoyingly, soothing her nerves more than killing Maelstrom did. Maybe a Legendary Overture was less a girl’s best friend than a hot steaming shower. She scrubbed at her nails, the motion drawing attention to the ink on her forearm. She never got the tattoo Johnny had impulsively given her removed. 

At first, she wanted to. It was a rather ugly piece and wasn’t _her_ , to say the least. Then, Johnny went on that date with Rogue and she **really** wanted it gone. But, as the malfunctions worsened and she spent more and more time just soaking in her grim reality with Johnny, she realized it was terribly symbolic. Of not only her feelings for the Rockerboy but also his presence every step of the way. So, she kept it and, now, the sight of it made her chest ache. 

V wondered if Johnny’s ever noticed it, wondered if he recalled a single thing about it. She had glimpses when he was still in her head, of that night and could still remember his sheer satisfaction at the finished work. Maybe even a hint of melancholy. It’d been his way of reminding her that he existed, that he ever did exist—a mark of him for when his psyche was to be torn away. Such a bittersweet, sentimental decision. 

She pressed her fingers against it, hoping it would give her strength, and finished washing up. She dressed quickly in the Moxes’ tee and skinny pleather pants Judy gave her, running her towel through her hair as she stepped back out into the living room. Large and small boxes lined the bare walls, a grim reminder of Judy’s move. Her friend was standing at the counter, chopsticks submerged in a large take-out container. 

“Hey, you feelin’ better, V? You definitely _look_ better.” 

“I am, thanks, Judy.” V took a seat, dropping her towel, and grabbing the spare utensils. “I’m starving. How much was the food? I told you I was treating.”

“Eh, who cares. It’s nothin’. I’m just glad you’re here, I sprung the news on you a lil late.” The editor was referring to Friday afternoon when they had their usual weekly meal. That one had been different, however, because rather than gabbing about nothing in particular, Judy had announced she was leaving Night City for good on Monday morning. To say it’d been a shock would be a lie—V always knew she would leave sooner or later. The city’s taken so much from her and she knew how much fun Judy had being away. This time, she was determined to stay gone and V didn’t blame her. She’ll just miss her. 

“No, no. I get why you didn’t tell me earlier. Besides, you did say it was kinda an impromptu decision and I don’t blame you for wanting to leave once and for all. Like I said the other day, I get it. If there’s anyone else in the world more _likely_ to understand, it’d be me.” 

Judy smiled. “I knew you would. You know I’ll miss you right.”

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and she nodded, reaching for her friend’s hand. The editor clasped hers and squeezed. “I’ll miss you too.” 

“Mm, now ‘nuff of that. Tell me why you were crying earlier.”

“I wasn’t crying,” V said, nearly laughing. “You really want to talk about that now?”

“C’mon, bet it’s more interesting than hearing ‘bout packing shit. I know you don’t like to spill but just a lil, yeah?” 

“You can say that.” V poked at her battered pork. “I don’t even know where to start. I mean, I kind of told you about Johnny right? That he’s awake and badgering me.”

“Sure, you didn’t say much though. Only that he’s forgotten stuff and being a dick.”

“Well, yeah. That’s exactly it. He’s...being himself. Like pre-chip Johnny but also, I don’t know, post-Pistis Sophia Johnny.” 

“Uh oh, you don’t sound very happy about that.”

“I _am,_ I think. It’s complicated.” V sighed, abandoning her food. She needed to tell Judy everything or nothing would make sense and she wasn’t going to do it with a full mouth. Or full stomach—it was already churning. “Long story short, I’m in love with him.”

“In love with who? _Johnny?_ ”

“Yeah.”

“B-but, what ‘bout River?” Judy looked astonished and, somehow, a tiny bit upset. “After that whole thing with me and, well, you gettin’ with River, I thought that was it.” 

_Oh, right. Their one night stand._ “I– Okay, don't get me wrong. I love River. I really do. But, fact is, it’s the same way I love you or love Panam or Kerry or any one of my close friends. It’s just more intimate, I guess.” 

“Shit, V. Does he know that?” 

“No. I don’t think so.” She looked down at the counter guiltily. “I never wanted to tell him because I knew he’d misunderstand and I didn’t want to hurt him.” 

“Jesus, V. I knew you liked Johnny, I mean, you really **described** that sunset if you know what I mean, but this? This sounds kinda fucked up if you ask me.” 

“I know.”

“Do you? Cuz what I’m hearing is that you love a man that doesn’t remember you but not the one that you’ve been stringing along.” 

V looked up, a little hurt at her sharp tone. “I haven’t been stringing him along! When we first got into this thing, I told him it wouldn’t work out. That it might _not._ ”

“Yeah, cause you were bouta die, right? But you had all these months, V. Guy even went along with your ride for a cure. Why didn’t you tell him then?” 

“Because I liked him. Because I thought at the end of all this, I’ll be in love with him. Besides, I didn’t know I wasn’t going to die until only two months ago!” 

“Yeah? Or is that an excuse, V?” 

“What does that mean?”

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me. Like, now I’m thinking about those times where you nearly cried talking about Silverhand. With him being in a coma and everything. This whole time you were in love with him?” 

“It isn’t like that. I didn’t realize how much I loved him until a month after Mikoshi; by then, I was still going to flatline and he wasn’t awake. Can you blame me for relying on River?”

Judy bit her lip. “V, River isn’t a crutch.”

“What?”

“I mean, he isn’t just an object you use to keep standing. Like, at first, maybe that’s how it was. I don’t blame you for that—you were dying and you were just tryna be happy and needed something to keep you going. But, man, I’ve seen the way that choom looks at you. It hasn’t been simple for him for a long while. But shit, maybe I’m wrong because I thought it wasn’t simple for you either.” 

V exhaled slowly, “It isn’t simple for me. I know what I sound like and I know I’m an asshole. I don’t know. Maybe I am in love with River like you thought, but...when I think of what I feel for Johnny, I think I’m more in love with the _idea_ of him.” 

“At first, he just made me happy to be alive. He liked me so openly and being with him felt smooth. Like there wasn’t anything in our way, even himself. He gave me so many choices and, hell, the chemistry was great. He had baggage, who doesn’t right, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t get or handle.”

She swallowed, reaching for a Nicola and popping it open. “Then, I woke up after Mikoshi half-dead and I really needed somebody. I didn’t think so—I pretended everything was fine but every day I was wasting away. I’d just given up.”

“I remember that,” Judy murmured, staring at her somberly. “I tried to get you to do something, research, or even eat, but you did everything like a bot. Scary shit.”

“I’m sorry. Everything was just overwhelming.” 

“Nah, I know. Evelyn, remember?” The editor glanced down at her hands and V winced, recalling the blood on them. 

“What she went through was worse. I’m sorry Judy.” 

“It’s alright. Keep going.” 

“One day, River came over to my place. Had a file in one hand and a pizza box in the other. Grabbed me, then sat me on the sofa and told me he was tired of me acting this way. Told me I had to keep fighting and that he was going to fight alongside me.”

“You have to understand, no one’s ever said that to me before, especially not someone I’ve only known for such a short time. I mean, there was Johnny, but that was— Different. It was crazy, seeing someone so fierce with me about myself. About my own life.” 

“I don’t even think that he was in love with me, yet. If anything, not deep. I even asked him, when we got back, why he did that. You know what he said? ‘Because you were worth it. Because you deserve help and because you helped me when I needed it.’ So simple and _nothing_ about what he felt for me.” 

“Shit…”

“Yeah.” V sipped her drink. “The fuck was I suppose to do after that, right? Wasn’t ‘till after Viktor’s exam that he told me how he felt about me and I realized I loved him too much to break his heart.”

“And Johnny?”

“Johnny is— There aren’t even enough words.” V furrowed her brows. This was hell for her—opening up like this—but...maybe she needed more help with this than she thought. “What we went through together is so vital to our relationship, that when he was in a coma and when I found out he had amnesia, I felt so fucking lonely. You remember when we went diving and you linked us together?”

“Yeah, it was great, if kinda messy.” 

“It was like that, but ten times more intense. I saw his memories, he saw mine. Sometimes, I could even hear his thoughts like he heard mine. We were one fucking soul. Like, everything I ate, he tasted. Every sense—synced. And, then, we were split.” 

Hollow. V had felt hollow and nothing she had done filled the space. “After that, I thought if he at least _remembered,_ though we had our own bodies again, life would be fine.”

Judy chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and stated, “But he didn’t.”

“He didn’t. Doesn’t. I don't know.” V confirmed softly. “It’s been confusing for me—fighting between what I feel and what I know. And, of course, River.”

“Okay. I get it. And, I’m not tryna be rude, but what’s the big deal? Like what’s the problem?” 

She blinked. “The whole thing. I don’t know what’s best for me.”

“V, for someone that’s usually a smart badass, you’re kinda being a gonk right now. A big one. Want me to be honest?”

“Of course.” 

“You’re being greedy. Plain and simple. You’re tryna dip your toes in two pools at once, but they’re so fucking far from each other that you wanna hire someone to move them closer. But, after all that work, you’ll still be left unsatisfied—hot _and_ cold.”

“Neither will be good if you choose both. You want to be safe and secure with River, sure, ‘cept you guys can end at any time ‘specially if you’re going in half-assed. If you’re going to dive in, why not dive in hot?” Judy grinned suggestively. “Sounds like Johnny’s deep enough to handle it.” 

V stared at the editor as the puzzle slotted together, abruptly forming the picture she’s been desperate to see the last two weeks. “I’m a dick. I’ve been calling Johnny a dick but I’m the bigger one.” 

“ _Yep,_ big time, babe.” Judy shoveled the rest of her rice into her mouth. “‘Course, I don’t know crap about Silverhand, but at least spare River. He’s a good guy; doesn’t need this shit. If you love him, best thing you can do is let him go.”

“...That’s going to fucking suck.” 

“It’s what you get if you play both sides—didn’t the corp teach you that?” She replied simply. “Now, you going to eat or what? I could use seconds.” 

* * *

AUGUST 1ST 2078 - 8:03 AM

V shoved the last container into the van and dusted off her hands, squinting as the sun peeked over the apartment complex. _It was too early for this shit._ Her hangover was manifesting as the worse migraine she’s had in days, but of course, it was looking to be the sunniest, hottest day of the week. At least it made Judy happy. The braindance editor was humming as she trotted down the fire escape, two heavy bags swinging from her hands.

“How are you so cheerful right now? Did we drink the same shit last night?” V grumbled, helping Judy shove her bags into the too-full vehicle. 

“I may or may not have watered mine down.” 

“ _Traitor._ ” She said vehemently but smiled as she walked her friend to the driver’s seat. “Can’t believe you would do that me.”

“Think you needed it more than me last night.” 

V winced. “Sorry I offloaded my issues on you. That isn’t like me.”

“Oh, I know, but you should make a habit of it. Better for ya’ it looks like, you look less miserable than I’ve seen you in a while.” 

“Dunno about that—I still have to visit River today.” V shuffled awkwardly. “Anyway, enough about me. You alright? Grabbed everything?”

“Think so. Everything important at least.” Judy gazed wistfully up at her building. “Can’t believe I’m actually doing it.” 

“I’m glad you are. You need a fresh start.” 

After a brief moment of hesitation, V pulled her friend into an embrace. “I’ll miss you, Judy. Don’t stop calling.” 

“Hah, why don’t you start answering?” The editor pried open the door and clambered in, giving V’s hand one last squeeze. “Will miss ya’ too. Don’t get yourself killed and don’t chicken out. Be honest and talk to them both; I don’t want you to regret anything.” Pain flashed in and out of her eyes and V hoped wherever the editor ended up, she won’t have any more regrets. Evelyn, Clouds—December didn’t go well for Judy either. 

“Thanks, for everything.” 

“No problem, V. See ya’.” The door slammed shut and the engine roared alive a beat later. 

V waved as the editor drove away, leaving her in the parking lot with a pit in her stomach. Judy was right; her head was clearer, her heart was less heavy, but still, she dreaded what came next. 

She grabbed her holo, shooting off a quick text, and padded towards her Arch. 

It was time to talk to River.

* * *

AUGUST 1ST 2078 - 8:05 AM

Johnny Silverhand stared at the ceiling, wide-awake and utterly fucking sober, as the figure beside him snored. There were more than a few explicit things etched across the peeling ceiling, including a particularly impressive rendition of a pair of tits. But after hours of staring at something, even the best became the worst. 

He needed a smoke. 

He pushed himself off the bed and pulled on his pants, relieved to find a couple of joints left in the pockets. The morning light was particularly harsh as he ambled out of the room and, once again, was reminded that his aviators were at Kerry’s. Lighting a cig, he leaned against the railing and stared down blindly at the empty motel lot. 

_The fuck is wrong with me?_ It was an intimate thought, having had crossed his mind more than a hundred times in the last six hours, yet he still had no answer for it. 

Last night had started out great. Sort of. Kerry had dragged him to a club after they’d finished recording the songs for the rocker’s new album. One thing led to another and Johnny found himself completely shitfaced and surrounded by the hottest chicks he has seen in a while. So what does his brain decide to do?

Think of the one woman that wasn’t there. And then get angry about it, because who was he, if not the self-proclaimed player of Night City? Why, of all people, would Johnny fucking Silverhand be hung over one damn person?

So, he decided, in his drunken, frustrated stupor, to do something about it. After all, it’s been over a week since he has last gotten laid so he should be rearing to go. Except, he hadn’t been. And now, here he was at another shit-hole establishment with a random chick that he didn’t even fuck. More accurately, _couldn’t_ even fuck. 

_The_ fuck _is wrong with me?_

He inhaled sharply, shuttering his eyes as the nicotine eased his irritation. 

A notion was clawing at the edge of his consciousness, demanding to be let in. It offered the answer to his question but Johnny knew it wielded a double-edged sword. He couldn’t entertain it. How could he when he understood its impact? He knew where it led. Misery and regret, the two things he didn’t want to entertain anymore. After all, the last time he listened, he ended up dead. 

Something beeped and an image appeared at the corner of the lot. More accurately, at the corner of his new optics—a holo notification. He clicked it without thinking.

  
  


* * *

**V**

**_Meet me at my place tomorrow whenever you can—directions attached._ ** ****

* * *

  
  
  


Johnny stared at the text and grew annoyed again. _This_ is what the infuriating woman meant when she said she’d call? _This_ person is the reason why he couldn’t get his fucking di—

“Hey.” He nearly dropped his cig at the abrupt greeting and twisted around to find the chick he’d brought here staring at him. She looked half-asleep, red hair sticking in all directions, but an ounce of awareness flickered in her eyes as she went to stand beside him. “You alright? You don’t look too good.”

“Whaddaya want?” He muttered, taking another drag. Memories from early this morning eased back, taunting him. “Thought I told you I wasn’t interested.” 

The woman giggled, propped her chin in her hand. “Obviously. I mean you couldn’t even say my name right.” 

Johnny stiffened. “...The hell you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember? We were bouta get down to business and you came real close and I thought ‘Oof, this man’s a find,’ but then you whispered my name wrong. Wrong letter, not even close to mine.” 

_Fuck._ “Mind introducing yourself again?”

“Eh, it doesn’t matter. Doubt we’ll ever see each other again.” She glanced away, eyeing the cloudless horizon. “I’m glad we didn’t end up doing it, so I hope you don’t feel too bad.” 

“I don’t.” He said flatly. “But I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” 

“Oh, honey. I told you I thought you were a catch. It’s not that.” She hummed, glancing at his joint. “Share?”

Johnny handed it to her without thinking. The woman inhaled deeply, contemplating him. She exhaled, passing the cig back with a mysterious smile. “I’m getting over some shit too.”

“Too?” 

“Don’t needa hide—I can tell from your eyes. They look like mine when I look in the mirror.” He examined her beneath his lashes—she was stick-thin, dressed in a bodysuit that left little to the imagination but flattered her build, and had long red hair framing a pale, freckled face. Her eyes were dark blue and natural, Johnny decided. 

“Am I missing somethin’? Cause we’re not exactly twins.” 

“You’re funny, mister Silverhand. I meant the look in ‘em. Identical. Dunno who you’re running from, but I know who I am.”

“What makes you think I’m running from anythin’?” 

“‘Cause you’re still here talking to me, a random gal you didn’t even fuck.” She sighed, “That’s what happens when you’re scared of falling in love. Her name’s V, right?”

Johnny stilled.

“Mm, mine’s called Harry. He’s a good guy, sweeter than I usually go for. Yet, he absolutely terrifies me because dating bad men is my specialty. Sounds insane, doesn’t it?”

It hurt. His heart was hurting like a bitch, the sharpness wedged beside it burrowing deeper and deeper until even his head began pounding. Fingers trembling, Johnny took another drag. They didn’t speak for a while and when he finally opened his mouth, the words came out tight. “...What do you plan to do?”

“Harry? Oh, I’m going back. Going to tell him I love him.”

“Even though you’re scared shit-less?”

“It’s _because_ I’m scared. Scared of losing him without him knowing that I love him back.” The woman straightened, giving him a serene smile. “Aren’t you?”

* * *

AUGUST 1ST 2078 - 8:42 AM

Spotless. 

As if it never rained yesterday night, the sky was completely cloudless. 

V scuffed her boots against the dry asphalt, struggling to breathe calmly. She’s never broken up with anyone before. Her first and last relationship had ended with her getting dumped—she didn’t have the experience needed to make this go smoothly, go calmly. What experience she did have with imparting bad news involved feigning sympathy and pity as she fired an employee or killed an enemy. River was neither. 

He didn’t deserve any sort of falsity, only the truth. 

Yet, above all else, the truth was the least easy to tell. 

“V!” Startled, she looked up the slope to where River was standing on his porch. “What are you doing? Not coming in?” 

“No. Uh, can you come out here?” V didn’t know whether his family was home or not but she didn’t want to risk seeing them or having them hear what she had to say. She felt a pang of loss—she really did like his family. For a time, they’d been hers. 

Her implants zoomed into River’s face, catching his frown as he began walking towards her. She waited for him silently, struggling to compose the right sentences in her mind. 

Nothing was working.

“What’s up? You’re acting weird.” River asked as he drew up in front of her, hands in his pockets. V searched his face, resolve faltering at the immense sweetness she saw in it. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and touched her arm. _Do it._ _There’s no way to do it without it hurting._

“Let’s break up.” 

River’s mouth fell open. “W-what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again, River.” 

He glanced down, tongue running over his teeth, and scoffed, “Why? Why now? What...what happened?”

“Do you really want to know?” _Please, please don’t._

“Fuck you think, V? You can’t just show up at my place and say shit like this to me. _Why?_ ” 

“I’m not in love with you. I tried so fucking hard to fall for you and I never did. I couldn’t—” She choked, wanting to be impassive and failing. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“..I know.” River said quietly. He reached and lightly touched her shoulder, forcing her gaze back to his face. The sight of it, heavy with anguish, nearly broke her. “I know you’re not in love with me. You’ve never said it back. But, it doesn’t matter.”

V shook her head fiercely, seizing his hand from her shoulder and pulling it to her chest. “At first, I thought it didn’t either. I wanted to be with you. You’ve never been anything but sweet and good to me. You helped save my life.” 

“V—”

“No, listen. I thought it was okay but it’s not. It’s not fair for me...it’s definitely not fair for you. We can’t just—just pretend that’s fine for the rest of our lives.” 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” He whispered. 

“I’m not. Don’t get mad. _I’m not._ You said it yourself, the other day, that you didn’t know me. If you don’t know me how can you say I’m all you’ve ever wanted?” 

“But you told me. You told me things, your history.” His words were edged with despair. River was floundering for an excuse, any excuse, and _that_ tore at her the most. She wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth his devotion nor his tenacity.

“An abridged version because I cared about you. _Fuck,_ I still care about you.” She sucked in a breath. “But it isn’t enough.”

Tears were streaming from River’s eye and he made no move to wipe them. No move to draw away. His hand was slackening and becoming limp in her grip. His voice was rough with grief when he asked, “Is there someone else?”

“Yes. No. Fuck, _yes._ There’s someone else. Bu-but it’s complicated.” 

Wrong thing to say. 

River tore away from her. He backed up, striding away, before stopping in his tracks and sweeping back. He reared up over her, stabbing a finger in her direction before pulling it back to his mouth, struggling to compose himself. “That’s the thing with you, isn’t it? Even _now,_ when you’re no longer dying, things are _complicated._ Like you’re the only one that goes through shit, right?”

“Of course not, I—”

“I don’t care what sort of excuse you have, V. I don’t fucking care. You know what? If this is what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Why are you suddenly so angry?”

“Because I’m realizing now that you’re right. I don’t know anything about you, but that’s because you don’t _want_ me to know. You’ve never even **considered** taking that step with me.” He looked defeated, stepping back with his eyes shut. 

“I don’t regret saving your life. I don’t regret any of that. But I do regret giving you my heart.” 

“And I should’ve known. I should’ve known we wouldn’t get a happily-ever-after.” He exhaled shakily, covering his mouth. “You should go.” 

V fisted her hands so she couldn’t touch him. “I’m so sorry.” 

  
“Just—just _screw off,_ V.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think lol. This was kind of a heavy chapter to get out (I got flashbacks writing their breakup scene, short as it was—oops). 
> 
> Anyway, the next two chapters are the final chapters of this fic. One might be a flash-forward scene; I will have to see because this fic kind of writes itself sometimes. 
> 
> But we're almost to the end :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always.


	14. blaze your way down the rebel path (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She tore from his grasp. Johnny growled but she was already kissing him, hands threading through that thick beautiful hair and pulling him down ‘till her breasts rubbed against the hard planes of his chest. But it wasn’t skin—she needed to feel him. 
> 
> “Take it off.” She sighed as he finally pulled away, chrome hand tight on her chin. He made an impatient noise but sat back to tug off his tee, revealing the lean, fluid lines of his torso. “Fuck, you look—”
> 
> Johnny’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing lightly. All of her thoughts evaporated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! 
> 
> This is, unfortunately, the last full chapter(???) because, as I've mentioned before, Chapter 15 will probably be a flashforward of some sort. Not sure what it will be yet, but I'll try to wrap up this fic well :) 
> 
> Anyway, all I have to say is that the support for my last chapter made me immensely happy and I was eager to get a nice update out. It is, to say understatedly, a fireworks chapter. So, NSFW. 
> 
> Thank you as always for each and every comment/kudos/read. It helped me get this out! Enjoy!

AUGUST 3RD 2078 - 9:00 AM

Thunder cracked, harsh and close, in the humid morning air as V watched rain drip from the balcony above her. Lightning splintered a dark, swollen sky, just over the gray horizon, an awe-inspiring sight on a dreary morning. Today’s forecast said that this storm will last the entire day; it was appropriate when considering her state of being. Exhaustion hung over her like the rain clouds—the last day and a half have been reserved for reflection and discontent. Little sleep had come as a result. 

Normally, V would have dived headfirst into work to distract herself from any tumultuous emotion but yesterday had been reserved for waiting. She hadn’t cried much, so the tears had died out long before she had realized Johnny wasn’t going to show. Twenty-four hours wasted, damned if she was going to waste another. 

Normally, V would confront the Rockerboy for not showing up but a large part of her knew that had been for the best. Breaking up with River had taken a toll on her; she knew for a fact that she wasn’t in love with him now because her last separation had hit her harder than this. But, regret was a powerful feeling. She hated how miserable he’d been and wished she could have handled everything better—not that there’d been a better way. 

V sipped at her cooling coffee, desperate to shrug off the emotional weight, and scrolled through the list of jobs available today. There were only a few—ever since her return to the merc market of Night City, her reputation now only ever secured her the biggest, most well-paid jobs. She will have to call some fixers to request some lower-paid, less difficult gigs. She doubts she’ll be able to tackle any that required meticulous planning and/or footwork in her state. 

She chewed on her lip, tossing her Joe in the sink when her holo beeped.

* * *

**JUDY**

**Hey, babe! Finally settled in at my grandparents’ place.**

**It’s beautiful up here. Wish you could join me!**

**How did the you-know-what go? You holdin’ up?**

* * *

V smiled at her friend’s update, shooting back a quick response. She missed the editor’s presence—Judy knew how to process grief and stress and could as easily lapse into silence as she could chatter. It made her a good companion for moping _and_ partying. Still, it made V glad to know she was happy up there, safe from the downfalls of Night City. Not for the first time, she thought she, herself, might be happier away from all this. 

_Maybe I’ll take a trip when I...fix things with Johnny._ She glanced at his contact, at their messages. Silverhand never responded to her text from two days ago or told her he’d like to reschedule or anything. It was understandable—she’d left rather abruptly the last time she saw him, leaving him behind while he was frustrated and angry. She didn’t know what to say to him now.

Her chest ached. She missed him but, at the same time, she wondered how awkward their conversation would be. A perk of Johnny being elusive had meant she’s had plenty of time to think. She wanted him. Needed him. Had to be with him, if he still wanted her. His feelings for her, whether he loved or liked her, didn’t matter. 

She still grieved for his lost memories, for their lost history, but his recall of _that_ night gave her hope. Maybe, one day, he’ll remember everything. But, even if he didn’t, it was obvious that he was still, at least mostly, the Johnny she fell for. Everything else can be learned and accepted and...loved. 

V debated calling him, messaging him, but decided to shower instead. She’ll text him after and tell him that she’ll be out for work but that she’ll be home later tonight. 

Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

AUGUST 3RD 2078 - 9:25 AM

Looks followed him as Johnny transitioned from pacing to leaning to pacing to leaning. His entire body was on edge and the loud fucking storm did little to help. He was not far from the entrance of a small building complex, sheltered from the intense rainfall by a slight overhang. The rain blurred the neon colors of Night City into a vivid photograph of light and activity. Normally, he would enjoy the sights and smells—wet concrete was, in his mind, a unique experience—but he was going insane.

Yesterday was a blur. Clinking of glasses, riotous conversation, and the clamor of bad music made up most of his memories. His body was displeased with him for being up this early, conjuring visions of warm sheets and a comfortable mattress. Instead, he was outside V’s apartment, in the rain, wondering whether he should go in or not. It was the first instance, in a long chain of instances, that he felt uncertain. 

Talking to that redhead two days ago had altered something in him. He began getting more nonsensical flashes and severe pangs of...y _earning._ A stupid word but the one that fit his mental and emotional condition. He’s lusted, he’s wanted, he’s craved, but he’s never _yearned._ But that was exactly what he felt. 

Johnny knew exactly what, or more precisely, _who_ he desired and it terrified him. 

Had terrified him for hours and was what drove him to drown in that ridiculous intoxicated stupor that was yesterday instead of coming here as V had suggested. Chances are he would still be immersing himself in that sort of stupor if not for the dream he had last night. 

A thrilling, frightening dream awash in fervor and tension. Each second of it had been so fucking clear, had revealed so fucking much, that it’d drove him from his sleep, out of Kerry’s, and into his Porsche. Then, it drove him here, where the storm finally shook him from his dream-stricken daze and left him with uncertainty instead. He could still see it, still feel everything from the dream but reality was harsher. 

V was in love with him. That, Johnny knew, was an undeniable fact, and if not for two days ago, he would’ve remained simply thrilled. He would’ve taken an advantage of her affections to keep her near. Hell, to fuck her because the truth of it was that he thought if he finally had her, all of this—his desire and his pain—will at last leave his system. But, now, that was impossible.

The dream only proved how impossible that was and Johnny Silverhand, who rushed headfirst into Arasaka Tower and nuked it to hell, was terrified. He was uncertain and scared and restless and _fuck_ did that make him angry. He gritted his teeth, reaching into his pants for a smoke when a notification appeared. 

* * *

**V**

**Hey, so I’m heading out but if you still want to talk, come over tonight.**

* * *

He stilled, rereading the message. She wasn’t going to be at home the entire day? Could he last ‘till tonight, not seeing her? 

_Wait, she’s leaving her place right now._

Johnny shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket and strode for the building doors. Cool air raised his skin and caressed his damp hair and clothes. It was a small lobby, less ostentatious than Rogue’s by far, and was only occupied by a resident determined to secure a drink from the vending machine. He barely gave the man a passing glance, stalking straight for the elevators at the far end of the space. 

Both were in use but Johnny watched as the left one descended, floors flicking by. He glared at the numbers—shouldn’t elevators be faster fifty years in the future? 

_5\. 4. 3. 2. 1._

It arrived. He tapped his foot, waiting for the doors to open. What floor was she on again? 12th? Johnny jabbed the up button once, then twice, when the elevator finally opened.

He froze.

Her head raised from her holo and V’s silver gaze met his. 

**Fuck.**

They stared at one another, disbelief filling her face at the sight of him. She was dressed for merc work, in a black turtleneck, a hooded coat, and brown pants. Her hair was damp like his, a stray drop slipping down her temple. He watched it, trying to not to look at her mouth.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Johnny? What are you—”

She cut off as the doors began to shut and, without thinking, he shoved his hand against the door and stepped forward, only to run into her as she tried to do the same thing. V gasped as he steadied her and he gritted his teeth at the sheer heat of her body against his. 

“You alright?” He asked calmly, or he hoped he sounded that way. 

She pulled away, glancing up at him. “You’re wet.”

He snorted, unable to stop himself. “That obvious?”

V’s eyes hooded—that irritating move that voided her face of feeling. “Do you want to come up?” 

And be alone with her? No. _Yes._

“Sure.” 

* * *

AUGUST 3RD 2078 - 9:30 AM

An uneasy silence shadowed them as they rode the elevator back to her floor. Johnny stood a foot and a half away, leaning in the corner by the floor panel with his arms crossed. She couldn’t tell if he was watching her with his aviators on but something akin to contemplation curved his lips. He was eerily quiet and still. 

She tried not to look at him. His damp hair curled behind his ears, a thick strand in his face, and she longed to brush it aside. She was _so_ tense; sometimes, she forgot he was a particularly attractive man. The feel of his chest and his hand still prickled where they’d touched her. 

Finally, the elevator rumbled to a halt. Johnny pushed off the wall, drawing closer. “This death-trap’s slow as hell.”

“The doors were supposed to be fixed a couple of days ago but no one’s showed to fix ‘em.” 

Johnny grunted his disapproval and stayed a distance away as the door finally moved and V stepped onto her floor. A hallway stretched in both directions and she turned right. Her apartment was the second to last entryway on the left. Rusted numbers hung off the gray metal door—1209. The panel beside it beeped with her touch and the door unlocked, sliding open. 

“Take off your shoes.” She said, stepping back into the warmth she only left five minutes ago. 

“You never did that at your old place.” He snarked but complied. V nearly turned at the statement. _How do you know that?_

Muffling her shock by pulling her jacket off, V replied with the truth. “The floor’s this nice synth-wood. I don’t want you to scuff it.” 

“Doesn’t look _that_ nice. ‘Preem view though.” Johnny stepped into the living space as she threw her coat on the couch. “Or it would be if it wasn’t raining like a motherfucker.” 

“Great sunsets.” She murmured, folding her arms. Johnny turned to her, sitting on her coffee table and prying off his sunglasses. His deep, smoky eyes met hers. “Want something to drink? Coffee? Nicola?”

“C’mon V.” He raised a brow, sweeping his hair back. “You tellin’ me you don’t have booze?”

“It’s nine o’clock.” She rolled her eyes but strode to the kitchen cabinet she’d designated her liquor stash. A couple of decanters lined the innards. She plucked out the half-finished tequila and grabbed some glasses. 

Johnny looked relaxed, but a strange weight had settled in his eyes as he stared at her. His legs were stretched out, his arms supporting his weight behind him. Her radio had been nudged aside and V shot him an annoyed glare as she set her bounty on the surface beside him. “There’s a perfectly fine sofa right there.”

Johnny plucked the decanter, filling the two glasses with a hum. “Here’s fine. Mm, this looks expensive.” He tossed a finger down and grimaced. “Tastes like shit though.” 

“Okay, liquor cop.” She grabbed a drink from him, settling on the couch. Her nerves were on fire—she couldn’t believe he was here in her apartment. Actually here, alive and real. She drank her tequila quickly, avoiding his stare. “...Didn’t think you’d show up today.” 

Johnny gripped his glass, leaning forward. “You want me here? Looked like you were headin’ out.”

“Thought I’d do a gig or two, clear my head.” 

“Doesn’t answer the question.” He raised a brow, sipping his drink. 

V couldn’t help the sharpness that crept into her voice. “Invited you didn’t I? Earlier **and** the other day.” 

“Was that an invite? Felt more like a command. _Woof._ ” 

“Fuck off. You didn’t show either way.” She snapped, grabbing the bottle and splashing more in her glass. “Why now? Didn’t think you’d be up so early if your life depended on it.” 

“It matter?” Johnny grabbed the tequila from her and set it down. “I’m here now. We gonna talk or are you gonna get shit-faced already.”

“That’s rich coming from you. Besides, when did you get so eager to spill your feelings? Even the old Johnny only had his certain moments.” She couldn’t stop. She wanted to argue, do anything to get this rising panic out of her. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes and she braced for his usual irritation. Instead, he pinched them shut and exhaled. “Don’t really give a shit ‘bout ‘old Johnny.’ Far as I know, you’re talkin’ me, not him. So talk. Isn’t that what you said you’d do last time?” 

V clutched her glass like a lifeline. “...What do you want me to say? I don’t know where to start.”

“Fuck sakes, V.” Johnny stood and began pacing. “You act like a blushing virgin sometimes. Why don’t you start with your pig? The hell you say to him?” 

“We broke up.” She said flatly. Tequila seared down her throat and she slid the glass onto the table. “Two days ago.” 

“Good. He wasn’t good enough anyway.” He muttered back and stopped, considering her. 

“Good enough for what?” 

Johnny ignored her. “And now?”

“ _Stop_ being cryptic.”

“What do you want now, V?” 

She fisted her hands. “I’d ask you the same thing. I still don’t know the hell you want from me. You haven’t said anything but you already know how I feel.” 

_IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou._

Johnny glanced away, out the window. “Guess I do. It’s storming just like that night. ‘Cept, this time I can see your face.” 

“I–I don’t remember it being that dark.”

“Maybe. I just get impressions, guess that’s what living as a ghost in somebody’s head will do to you.” He sat down again, considering his hands. “I recall you the most. The taste of nicotine in your mouth. The warmth of the ashes on your legs. Your emotions. Up and down, always, but down then. Real fucking down.” 

“Night before we met with Hanako Arasaka, to make our decision on what to do next. She offered us a way out.”

“That Saburo’s cunt of a daughter?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Glad you didn’t take her offer.”

“You wouldn’t let me.” She smiled wryly, recalling his anger. “You were pissed, told me to leave.” 

“Good to know I was always right even in your head.” They lapsed into stillness. Thunder boomed beyond the apartment, blue lightning forking the gray sky. “You wanted to die.” 

V flinched. The words sounded terrible out in the open, sparking between them. “Considered it, but I wasn’t the only one in my body.” 

“You know I didn’t know what you felt for me ‘till then? I ‘member my surprise. Guess I thought a part of you still hated me for screwing you over.”

“Was never your fault. I stopped blaming you pretty early.”

“Yeah, but I was still an asshole.” 

“You’ll always be an asshole, Johnny.” V paused, suddenly overwhelmed with nothing but sheer love for this man. He wasn’t perfect. He’ll never be perfect. But none of that mattered because he was hers. He will always be hers even if he decided not to _be_ with her. No one else’s soul has touched and stripped hers bare like Johnny’s. “I wouldn’t change you. Wouldn’t change anything if it meant I could meet you, could know who you are myself.” 

“V…” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have my regrets but...I’m alive. We’re alive. I can’t keep living in the past.” She dropped her gaze. She didn’t want to know his reaction, didn’t want to see rejection, so V didn’t see Johnny turn to her.

His knees encased hers, his broad hands sliding onto her thighs. Her heart was beating out of her ears, heavy and swift, as she slowly lifted her head. 

“V.” His voice was rough, deep with an emotion she couldn’t place. His eyes swallowed hers, the blackness alive and warm and eternal. “At Mikoshi, when we found my body on ice and when we dropped into the Net.”

V’s breath suspended in her chest. “Y-you remember that?” 

“Listen. We made a choice. A ‘nova choice. To risk it all for a slim-fucking chance. You told me to ‘do it’ so we would have **that** _._ But now, after all this, would you still make that choice?” 

_Yes yes yes yes._ V didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself. 

She nodded tightly. 

Johnny’s grip stiffened, his fingers pressing hard into her legs. It dizzied her, the strength and intensity of his touch, as his eyes entranced her. They were swallowing her whole, deep and dark and perfect. V was losing herself, plummeting so fast she barely heard his next words. 

“On the bridge, when you held me back before I could go into the light. You touched me and there was only one thing going through my fucking head. I couldn’t say it then but I’ll say it now.”

“I love you, V.” 

Tears dripped from her eyes as his confession jolted her back to the present. To reality _._ V searched Johnny’s face. It was wrought with warmth but also with fear and apprehension. His vulnerability hurt her chest and she nearly bowed from the sharpness. _Phantom pain._ He was like a missing limb. She ached for him. Shattered for him. 

Needed him. 

Loved him. 

“Fuck sakes, V. Say some—“ 

She cut him off. Her lips strained against his, hands fisting his damp shirt and pulling him to her. They kissed for an eternity, Johnny rising and pressing her into the sofa. A soft whimper of protest escaped V as his chrome hand tugged on her hair, pulling her head back to look at him. 

He was breathing hard, his gaze fiery. “ _Tell me,_ V.” 

She shut her eyes and let the words go, “I love you. I’ve been in love with you ever since Pistis Sophia.” 

Johnny groaned, low in his chest, and she knew his patience was gone. 

He pulled her into him, claiming her mouth with hard, biting kisses that had her arching into him. His hands traversed down her back to grab her ass, lifting her without pause. She clung to him, moaning into his mouth as Johnny laid her down on the couch. 

He pinned her wrists above her, leaving her writhing and desperate. Heat pooled in her stomach as he tugged on her ear, tongue tracing the shell of it with languid, searing strokes. “Be good and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“L-like you can wait.” She breathed back, raising her leg and pressing into him. He was unbelievably rigid, straining against his too-tight pants, and his subsequent curse only proved her point. 

He tightened his hold on her arms but reached for her sweater, jerking it up ‘till her abdomen was bared. She sucked in a gasp as his feverish touch sent arousal streaming downwards. _Fuck,_ did she need this. She’s never needed anything more. “Johnny, you _asshole._ ”

His fingers danced over her ribs, brushing the underside of her breast. “Beg me.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“V, you should just give in for once.” He pressed hard against her, smirking as she whimpered a little. His fingers slid further and circled her aching nipple in a languid caress. It drove her mad. 

She tore from his grasp. Johnny growled but she was already kissing him, hands threading through that thick beautiful hair and pulling him down ‘till her breasts rubbed against the hard planes of his chest. But it wasn’t skin—she needed to _feel_ him. 

“Take it off.” She sighed as he finally pulled away, chrome hand tight on her chin. He made an impatient noise but sat back to tug off his tee, revealing the lean, fluid lines of his torso. “Fuck, you look—”

Johnny’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing lightly. All of her thoughts evaporated. 

“My turn.” He shoved her turtleneck higher, exposing her breasts. He was everywhere. His mouth and hand groped her bruisingly and V knew she’ll wake up thoroughly marked. 

The thought of it made her terribly wet. 

But then his lips finally circled her nipple, flicking and sucking, and a harsh cry spilled from her. Johnny hummed in approval and tightened his hold on her neck. Her head swam but he didn’t stop. His fingers plucked at her pants and stripped her legs bare as his lips burned down the length of her to press between them. 

His beard pricked the sensitive skin of her thighs and she gasped, curving closer to the wet heat of his mouth. Johnny shoved her hips down, freeing her neck, and murmured into her, “I can see your perfect pretty cunt from here.” 

His chrome fingers, startling cool, traced the edge of her underwear, hovering over the wettest part of her. V could hardly breathe. She was crying, begging, but she barely heard herself. 

All she could sense was Johnny, who slowly dipped his head down and lapped at her through the cotton. The friction was delicious. Ripples of lust swept her body, curling her fingers and toes. Bruisingly hard, he pulled her higher and pushed her panties off. _Finally!_

His tongue slipped within as his fingers stroked her lips, sweeping her wetness here and there. He brushed his thumb against her clit and she seized, a strangled moan building in her throat. “M-more.” V pleaded, pressing Johnny between her legs and tangling her fingers in his locks. 

He complied. 

He timed his thumb with his tongue, playing her like an instrument and she soared. The wave in her built steadily, swirling and burning and keen, as she rocked against him. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. 

As if he sensed her agitation, Johnny pulled away only to thrust his fingers in her. He pumped his hand, swallowing her relieved sob with his mouth and V ground against his hold. “I-I’m close.” 

He groaned deep in his throat and pressed close, sucking on the tender spot between her jaw and neck. Her nails dug into his back as the wave crested higher and higher. 

“ _Come for me, sweetheart._ ” Johnny purred, his rough voice sending shivers down her spine. 

Crescendo. 

She came with a ragged cry, clinging to him as the pleasure shot through her like lightning. Johnny teased the orgasm from her, refusing to halt the frisk of his hands as she jerked against him. Her thigh brushed against his pants, feeling his hardness, and a conscious part of her crooned in pleasure. 

He **wanted** her. 

“Fuck me, fuck me _now._ ” V demanded, squeezing him. Johnny swore and leaned back. She watched him unbutton his pants and ease himself out, biting her lip at the sight of him. _Okay, maybe he does have an impressive cock._

“Of course you go commando.” The words came out in a breathless laugh.

“That the only thing you got to say?” He taunted, fisting his cock and stroking. She swallowed hard and surged up, pushing him onto the back of the couch. He grunted as she settled over his lap, streaking her wetness down his shaft. His gaze set her ablaze and she nearly crumbled. 

V swallowed again and rubbed against him, dizzy with want, yet determined to goad him as he did her. “Beg me.” 

“Fuck you, V.” He groaned as she grasped him punishingly, pumping once, then twice. “You fucking _cunt._ ” 

Johnny gripped her nape, exposing her throat. He pressed a stinging kiss over her rapid pulse and before she could even finish moaning, thrust himself in her. 

The world exploded in shards of desire and perfection. It rained down on her as he fucked her, hard and quick, and V strove to match his pace, feeling the fever in her spike and spike. 

She dipped her hand between them, spurring her pleasure, and pressed forward blindly. Johnny’s beard scraped her lips and he devoured her desperation with languid strokes of his tongue, a contrast to his harsh thrusts. 

The dichotomy shook her core. 

This was everything. She could die, right here and now because she was complete again. He was here. He was here. _He was here._

He licked flames down her face and buried his face in her neck, sucking hard beneath her jaw. She moaned, quickening her hand and quickening her pace, his cock hitting every sensitive nerve within her. 

Heat simmered and rocked between them.

Johnny kneaded her ass possessively and thrust urgently, growing stiffer against her. 

_“Fuck, V. I-”_ She cut him off with a bruising kiss, biting his swollen lips, and felt her pleasure splinter. The second orgasm rocked her as hard as the first and she faltered, digging her fingers into Johnny’s broad shoulders with a harsh gasp. 

He groaned at the sound and _unraveled_ with a flood of curses. V sagged and embraced him weakly as he shuddered against her, riding through the rapture. Sweat trickled down her face and she licked the saltiness away as she pulled back to consider him. His lashes fluttered and parted beneath her regard, dark gaze staring into her soul. 

So much love blazed within him and she burst into tears, only hoping that she conveyed the same. “Thank you.”

He hummed, wiping her tears away. His touch was so painfully gentle. “Thank _you,_ V. I’ve fucked up so many things, screwed over so many people, but I’m glad I didn’t fuck this up.” 

V shook her head and cradled his face in her hands. “You’re mine.” 

“...Like you are mine.” Johnny said roughly. 

Thunder roared and lightning flashed as V lowered her forehead onto his and kissed him, more kindly than they’ve ever kissed before. 

Because now? 

They had forever. 

* * *

AUGUST 3RD 2078 - 6:08 PM

The summer storm must have dissipated in the afternoon, earlier than predicted, leaving wisps streamed across an azure sky. They had embraced for hours, soaking in silence or gasping in desire, until the sun began to dip towards the horizon and Johnny noted the red-gold of the ocean. A sunset, brilliant and clear, was beginning. 

V and Johnny stood on her damp balcony, sharing a cig between them as they watched the sun kiss the water. The sight brought tears welling to her eyes and she was surprised to see a similar expression on Johnny’s face. 

His dark brows were furrowed, his swollen lips twisted.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better, V.” He said quietly, glancing at her above his aviators. “This how it look at Pistis Sophia?” 

“...Better. This is better.”

Johnny exhaled and his grimace softened. “Fuck me.”

“Already did.” She teased, grabbing the smoke and inhaling. 

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” 

“I’m sorry, for not remembering everything.” He said reluctantly, turning to face the approaching twilight. “Not sure I ever will.”

“It doesn’t matter. You remember enough. You remember you love me. I don’t need anything else.” 

“You might regret sayin’ that.”

“Regret’s part of life, but I won’t let it take over anymore. Neither should you.” 

“Sounds difficult.” Johnny mused. “Guess I’ll have to see what’s next first.” 

“And I’ll be there beside you.” V placed her hand on his. Their cigarette crackled and ash fluttered in the breeze. “As long as you want me.”

“Even if I want to bomb Arasaka again?”

“Johnny, I _will_ kill you first.” 

The Rockerboy laughed, loud and free, and swept her into a kiss. 

V welcomed it with a smile but a part of her perked up, wondering: 

_What_ is _next?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Hope you guys enjoyed the sex scene because it was a hard write for me lol. Leave me your thoughts on that, or anything else. I love reading comments. 
> 
> Also, if anyone wants to be friends or...uh, damn IDK what AO3 readers/writers do, but if you want to reach out, my DMs are open on Twitter @feralcherie.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I'll try to get out Chapter 15 as soon as I can! Much love. 
> 
> PS: I have been thinking of doing a sequel to this fic but am not completely sure yet, so no promises. But let me know what you guys think anyway.


	15. will never fade away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost V's birthday and she and Johnny are gearing up for a pleasant celebration when trouble occurs. 
> 
> (A flashforward and mini-adventure in one...aka, not a random happy scene)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back to tie up the fic with a bonus story—it's still a flashforward as I mentioned before but my imagination just took it for a run I guess. It's not a bow on a present; instead, it's more like a random box of stuff that came with your gift but you don't have a single idea what to do with it. If that makes sense. 
> 
> However, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway, especially if you were looking forward to a little bit more writing.
> 
> Enjoy!

OCTOBER 11TH 2078 - 5:00 PM 

Mist crawled over cracked asphalt as the Porsche 911 steered down the road several miles away from Seattle. Thick pines rose from the fog like skyscrapers and stretched to brush the pink sky. An environment V has never before seen—far from the badlands that ringed Night City. It was luscious and rich, startlingly fresh air sweeping in with the breeze.

The music was turned low but she drummed her fingers to the beat; neither she nor Johnny was yet sick of the songs that played, despite having heard them repeatedly over the last month. The Rockerboy tapped his foot beside her, aviators hanging low on his nose, as he rested his eyes. The wind rustled his hair, which had grown out to its original length in the last three months. A terribly good look on him that never failed to make her heart skip. 

The pair were on their way to the lodge V had rented several days prior—a pretty cabin nestled at the edge of a forest overlooking the Pacific. It was one of several vacation homes in a small community called Sherrywood, a destination well-known for its marvelous views and tranquil isolation. It’d been an impromptu decision spurred by Johnny’s sudden recollection of her birthday—a date that aligned with the arrival of Kerry’s promotional tour in the bustling port of Seattle. 

In a rare burst of affection, Johnny had suggested breaking away from the tour to celebrate for a few days on their lonesome. Secretly delighted and openly amused, V had agreed, though the rental had cost her a pretty eddy. Not that she minded. She _was_ relatively wealthy, especially considering she never bought anything in Night City. 

Merc work always paid well and, despite being on vacation, she and Johnny did take the odd job in the odd metropolis—why squander an opportunity? Especially when the Rockerboy burned eddies on the daily. Not that it was shocking, by all means, since V can still recall the odd memory where Johnny promised to pay a tab or debt. He was notoriously fickle with wealth—constantly flipping off capitalism every chance he gets. 

She loved that about him. 

A cobblestone arch rose into view as V turned the corner. It was a strangely rustic edifice that crowned a steel gate separating Sherrywood from the surrounding forest. A quick scan showed not a single piece of tech was to be found aside from the small booth at the entrance. It was occupied by a Zhirafa bot, a large rifle in its grip and a small name-tag on its torso—Sherrywood Admission Officer. _Alrighty._

Johnny roused as she came to a stop by the booth, glancing at her. “We here?”

“Yeah. Wait a second.” V turned to the robot, whose beady optics scanned her as she rolled down her window. “I’m V, we rented, uh, the Owl Haunt Lodge for a couple of days.”

Gears churned as the bot just stared, processing the information she sent over. Johnny’s chrome hand slid onto her thigh, thumb stroking rhythmically. “These tin-heads freak me out.” 

“Scared by a bot?” V teased, grasping his hand. 

“Can’t tell me they don’t look like one of those Maelstrom freaks.”

“Hah, pretty sure _this_ is where they got the inspiration from.” 

Johnny snorted, leaning his head back. “Yeah, well, fuck that.”

“Your identity has been processed. Please proceed.” The “Admission Officer” intoned. Its optics blinked slowly and the gate began to slide open. “Thank you and enjoy your stay.” 

V nodded, suddenly eager to get away from the bot, and floored the gas. Johnny chuckled as they shot over the speed bump into the gated community, “Told ya.” 

“Shut up.” She replied automatically but soon her attention was drawn to her surroundings. The trees thinned here, parting for well-paved roadways and slightly hidden lodges. The houses were larger than she thought and one or two were at least half the size of Kerry’s North Oak mansion, which meant they were fucking big. Yards and yards of untamed shrubbery and pines separated them, but this was hardly the ‘tranquil isolation’ the Sherrywood page had advertised. “The hell is up with all these houses?”

“Thought you said it was a small, vacation community.” Johnny mused, “There has to be over ten of these things. And seems like plenty of fuckers are home.” 

Silverhand was right. More than a few cabins were lit up and she spotted the odd vehicle or two. 

“As long as they don’t bother us, I guess,” V said, chewing on her lip as they rounded an artificial pond and up a small slope. “Annoy you that much?”

“Nah, all this is for you. Could’ve booked us a shit-hole and I would’ve been ‘nova.” Johnny squeezed her thigh and she felt his gaze on her as she pulled up to the cabin at the end of the road. 

Thankfully, it was smaller than the other lodges—the pictures had been accurate—and sat beside a rugged mountain face. The pines were sparse here and the mist has since faded, offering a clear view of the entire glade. Stone steps curved up to a medium-sized porch jutting from the cabin. V would’ve called it rustic, if not for the odd metal pillar or decal that bespoke of its recent construction. 

Beyond the treeline, past the edge of the rental, was the deep blue of Pacific. Weak golden light strained through the pine needles but twilight was already fast approaching. They’ve missed today’s sunset. V killed the engine, butterflies soaring in her stomach. It was the first time in weeks that the two will be alone for longer than a day or two. 

Before the tour, she and Johnny were constantly out in town killing criminals, stealing information, or visiting friends, if not rolling in bed. They had their odd moments but neither liked inactivity enough to just lie around. V also suspected it was because both of them were still tentative—neither were particularly relationship people but, all of a sudden, Johnny was living with her and constantly _there._ It was easier than it’d been with River, yes, but it didn’t mean things didn’t get strained every once in a while. Particularly because both of them _did_ get on each other's nerves. 

Kerry’s tour for his new album had been a welcome diversion from V’s workaholism, not to mention a way for Johnny to dive back into music again. He did fine as a merc but the violence made him antsy—one can only have so much sex or so many arguments. Music, she knew, had been Johnny’s way of expression and release, so when Kerry asked for them to join the tour, she’d forced them out the door. The busy schedules have been therapeutic for both V and Johnny, but it also meant they only spend a handful of hours alone together a day. 

This small excursion will change that and V was both eager and nervous about it. Not to mention slightly... _excited._ It’s been a couple of days—one couldn’t exactly fuck in a tour bus filled with others. That is, V couldn’t. Johnny, of course, could care less. But, she had to give him props for being so surprisingly well-behaved about it all. 

See? Music helped. 

“V? You gettin’ out or what?” She shook from her reverie, glancing at Johnny. He was half-way out the door, twisting back to arch an amused brow at her. 

“Stop rushing me.” She pushed out of the Porsche and realized how glad she was to be stretching her feet. The drive hadn't taken too long but after a month on the road, any ride tended to suck the energy from her limbs.

Johnny must’ve felt the same because he let out a groan as he stretched. 

“ _Fuck_ that feels good.” He exhaled, propping his arms upon the car and gazing over her shoulder. “Nice choice. Bit woodsy though.”

V laughed, “‘Woodsy?' Guess you’re not a fan of the great outdoors?”

“Are _you_?” He challenged, slipping a smoke between his lips. The comforting scent of tobacco filled the air, making her fingers twitch. Her dependency on cigarettes was starting to get old, honestly, but being around Johnny meant the habit was hell to kick. “Seems to me we’re both city-gonks, through and through.” 

“Think the fresh air will do us good. Come on, I want to see the place.” 

V made for the cabin, Johnny ambling after her. 

Their boots echoed on the wooden porch. A single light flickered above them, casting their faces in shadow as V made for the door. Renting the lodge should’ve granted her access to the security measures in place. She spotted the tell-tale blink of a camera and the familiar sight eased her usual alertness. The lack of tech and security at the gate had been disturbing for her Night City paranoias, not to mention the surprising amount of people in Sherrywood. Far as she knew, October wasn’t a holiday month. She reached for the door, which had an old-fashioned knob topped by a panel when suddenly she found herself spun around and pressed against it instead. 

V opened her mouth to chide Johnny but fell silent as she glimpsed the fire in his eyes. _Okay, so maybe he hasn’t been as patient as I thought._

The cig and his aviators were nowhere to be seen as Johnny caged her in, leaning close enough for his breath to tickle her face. 

“We going to kiss or what?” She whispered, licking her lips. Her chest was pounding and a fire of her own was beginning to flare, incinerating her nerves. 

Johnny hummed noncommittally, raking heat up and down her face as he regarded her. His fingers swept against her cheek, pushing her hair behind her ear in a single creeping move. “...Open the door so I can finally fuck you, V.”

She swallowed as the Rockerboy stepped back, just enough to let her scan the door. It beeped and a mechanism within churned, unlocking. She turned the knob, only managing to push it open slightly when Johnny’s arms snaked around her.

His chrome hand gripped her chin and pulled her into a rough kiss, tongue slipping into her mouth. She whined against him, hooking her arms around his neck, and returned his fervor. His fingers pressed hard down her back and grabbed her ass, squeezing tight. 

Arousal flooded her system. Her knees buckled beneath her. Johnny groaned in satisfaction and pulled her hard up and against him. V locked her legs behind his back as he kicked the door in and entered, never breaking their kiss. 

She gasped when he finally did break away, his eyes flaring wide. “What the fuck?”

“What?” She sighed, twisting around in his embrace to see what disturbed him. 

_“Holy shit.”_

V slammed her hand against Johnny’s chest and he dropped her. She steadied herself against him, gaping at the horrific scene before her. 

Segments of a body, strewn together by threads of tendon and muscle, were arranged in a spread-eagle position on the floor of the living room. Blood, a lot of it, had been poured around the mangled corpse—a ring or border of some sort. Furniture lined the walls, haphazardly pushed aside for the gruesome display. 

It was a carefully curated scene, may or may not set for discovery.

“Never been cockblocked by a corpse before.” Johnny said flatly. 

V ignored his quip, stepping closer and crouching by the mess. The head of the body was barely recognizable, the eyes gouged out and the nose sliced off. Even what hair it might’ve had was shaved off. All that was left were its parted purple lips. “Quite the birthday present.”

“Yeah, I think whatever fuck left this behind needs a good lesson on gift-giving,” Johnny growled. He began pacing behind her, arms crossed. “We need to call someone.”

“This place is hardly big enough for a police force. A manager maybe? Fuck.” V gripped her hair, agitated, when an idea came to mind. “The website. It should have some sort of contact information.” 

She pulled out her holo, typing in the Sherrywood rental address when a loud crash made her jump. She flinched into Johnny, who caught her with a grunt, and they both stared at each other for a moment. 

Where the hell did that come from?

_“Get down.”_ She hissed, reaching for the revolver strapped to her thigh. Johnny did the same with his Malorian, holding it up against his chest. “You search this floor. I’ll see what’s upstairs.”

“Careful, V.” He warned before stalking around the corner. She watched his back disappear before heading left. 

The cabin had a relatively open floor plan, the entryway opening into a large living area that branched left and right. Photographs of the rental had shown her that the kitchen, dining, and laundry rooms were to the right, where Johnny had disappeared to, while a study room and a staircase dominated the other half of the first floor. In front of her was a wall of glass, offering a glimpse of a purple sky, a sliver of the ocean, and an empty balcony. 

A glance into the small study offered up nothing, so V proceeded quietly up the stairs. A soft scuffling paused her at the landing and she crouched, peering around the railing into a short hallway. Two doors on the right, a door at the end. Only one was open. The sound continued, louder this time, and grated her eardrums. It was like a fusion between snarling and chewing. 

V’s heard a comparable noise from a Night City stray gnawing covetously on a leg but this had to be human. Nothing else could’ve orchestrated the scene downstairs—one does need opposable thumbs to arrange limbs...right? 

_Please,_ don’t let this be a cyberpsycho. The mess downstairs resembled the horror scene left behind by a certain female Maelstrom psycho, who V would’ve gladly killed if not for Regina’s request. The fixer hadn’t seen the carnage, the way the Maelstrom flickered around at the edge of her vision. It’d given her nightmares for several nights. She wasn’t eager for a rerun. 

She checked her ammo, relieved to find the gun fully loaded, and made sure her suppressor was on tight before creeping forward. A muffled creak made her turn, catching Johnny at the foot of the stairs. He shook her head—nothing downstairs—so V motioned for him to follow her. Pressing a finger to her lips, she slid against the wall and towards the bright doorway. 

Johnny pressed beside her with a grimace. The sound was getting louder, interspersed by what V would think was animal growling if not for the stuttering words that followed. 

“Offer...meat...dare...they—kill...em...show...all.” 

Okay, cyberpsycho. Sonofa—

BANG!

Another resounding crash and the crunching of what had to be glass. She exchanged a quick look with Johnny who nodded and held her breath, poking her head out to peer into the room. 

A humanoid figure crouched by the windowsill. Silver rippled down their back in a reinforced spine and their legs were entirely gone, replaced by popular doe-footed prosthetics. Bright green hair, shaggy and matted, concealed their downturned face. Eating—they had to be eating. Debris littered the carpet around them—including a less than healthy amount of blood and the remains of two shattered windows. A table lamp had been knocked over, spilling light across the floor. The results of the loud crashes they heard. 

The figure twitched, raising their head, and V stared in horror as she realized what they were doing. She whipped back into hiding, flashing Johnny a grim look.

“What?” He demanded quietly. 

“It’s a cyberpsycho, has to be. Their jaw’s been ripped out and replaced with some kind of grinding chrome. And the freak’s using it to eat their own arm.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

V ran her tongue over her teeth, every second a minute long. It was a wonder the psycho hasn’t discovered them already. A plan. She needed a plan.

“I got it. You head downstairs, in case they jump out the window. Who knows what sort of havoc they’ll wreck if they manage to get their hands on these other guests. I’ll try to pacify it before that happens.” 

“Sounds dangerous.” Johnny mused, searching her face. “Be careful, V.” His free hand brushed her cheek, leaving behind a kiss of heat.

She watched him creep down the stairs and carefully inhaled, steeling her nerves. She’s taken down plenty of cyberpsychos back in Night City—this should be a piece of a cake. 

Right? 

V stared down the barrel of her revolver and swung herself through the doorway. 

Only, the target was gone. 

_“Fuck.”_

She stepped into the room, boots cracking glass, and drew towards the gaping apertures. An empty, trackless roof, shifting trees. Darkness was falling, the shadows long on the mulched ground beyond. There wasn’t a single mark on the windowsill, so where did—

_“Hehehehehhe.”_

V spun. 

The psycho hung from the corner of the room, all but one limb dug into the plaster walls. Blood trickled from their jutting jaw, from their nub of a right arm, soundlessly hitting the carpeted floor. Stark black optics glared down at her, malice shining in the inhuman implants. 

_Malice?_ Or was it just insanity, just a really fucked up person gone crazy? 

V opened her mouth to spout futile reason but was saved the chance as they sprang for her, remaining hand curled with razor-tipped fingers. Time decelerated as she leaped back and out of the room. Her boots ground on the shingled roof, a foot from the edge, and she lifted her gun, loosing a shot. _Crack!_ It went wide, thudding into the lodge wall, when time righted itself, and the psycho barreled into her instead. 

They flew off the cabin with the psycho burying their maw into her shoulder when she tried to dislodge them. V screamed, only for the cry to cut off as the ground slammed the air from her lungs. 

The impact dislodged her attacker and flung them down the driveway, gravel kicking into the air. 

Her vision swam, glitching, as she struggled onto her knees. Her shoulder was a chasm of pain, resonating acutely with the reverberations in her back. 

Something was wrong with her left arm. V grasped at it, praying it wasn’t paralyzed. 

_“V!”_

The warning cry sounded a beat before the cyberpsycho leaped for her again, too quick to follow. She stumbled to the side—narrowly avoiding the psycho’s grasp—dropped her Overture, and released her mantis blade. 

Shots rang out in the glen, scaring off a flock of birds from the trees, as Johnny came into view. His Malorian buried rounds into the psycho’s back. 

But they kept coming.

She batted their flailing arms away and scored a slice down the front of their chest. 

_“Bitch!”_ They hissed, trying to seize her. Her blade crackled, deflecting their hold, but they weren’t giving up so easily.

Maw wide and edged with her blood, they snapped the air by her head. V shot up and over the psycho, and landed beside Johnny. He clutched her, shoving her behind him, as he discharged his pistol again.

The hit thudded into the cyberpsycho’s chest with the force of a cannon, knocking the bastard off their feet. 

Gore splattered but the psycho writhed and rose, pawing at the wound with their nub. 

V panted, “It won’t be enough. These fuckers are—”

“I know.” Johnny snapped and emptied his clip. Each powerful shot dissolved flesh and chrome. Mangled cries filled the glen. “Seeing you on the ground brought some shit back up.”

The psycho finally dropped again, twitching. 

The Rockerboy reloaded but V shook her head. If she was finally going to have the chance to kill one of these freaks, she wasn’t going to let him steal it. He eyed her warily, hand dropping. 

She strode over to the psycho and loomed over them, grimacing at the mess Johnny caused. How the hell was this asshole still alive? A section of their face and their skull was gone, yet it still managed to sneer at her as its remaining implant honed in on her face. 

_“I’ll rip you apart! Serve you to—”_

“Shut the _fuck_ up.” Her blade sliced through metal and wires, severing the psycho’s head from what remained of their body.

* * *

OCTOBER 11TH 2078 - 6:13 PM

“How the hell do we get into shit like this?”

Sirens swamped the glen. Two police cars and a CSI van blocked the view of the lodge. The authorities crawled the driveway like an ant infestation, including the Sherrywood Operations Manager she finally managed to call after a puff from a MaxDoc. He wrung his hands, casting panicked glances down the road where a small group of people gathered beyond the holo-tape. 

They were at the Porsche, lying down on the hood of the car and watching the proceedings. V’s body was numb with drugs but her left fingers curled as she spoke, her arm thankfully still in working condition. Her head was nestled on Johnny as his fingers stroked her bare skin, willing her tension into repose. 

“Hell of a pre-birthday celebration,” Johnny said after a long drag of his cigarette. “But what’d we expect—a preem fuck and a dip in the hot tub? Not really us, is it?” 

“You’re telling me you’d rather _not_ have done that?” She demanded incredulously. “Because that sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Jus’ saying trouble follows you.” 

“Uh-huh, because you got stuck in a chip because you’re so problem-free.” 

“What can I say? Dick and cunt, right.” He pressed a hard kiss on her head, voice softening just a touch. “We can still do all that if you want. Didn’t the manager give us another place?” 

“Mm, yeah. Guess he did. Maybe we should, even if this place still gives me the creeps. You want to?” V couldn’t help but still be a bit insecure—the evening has gone terribly wrong. This was her plan, her idea, and she couldn’t fault Silverhand for wanting something else even if this was meant for her birthday. 

Johnny smirked, stubbing his joint and turning to lean over her. She shifted to accommodate and looked up at him, instantly losing herself in the depth of his gaze. He brushed a strand of hair from her temple, trailing his fingers down the planes of her face. A kiss of steel against her lashes, her cheek, her nose. Each touch strangely hot despite the coolness of his hand. 

His eyes locked on her lips. Chrome pressed carefully against them, sending shivers down her back, and then curved beneath her chin. 

His hold tightened, lifting her head up. “Think you need some convincing that I do, V.” 

Johnny’s kiss stole away her breath. She pressed against him, holding on as his tongue set her alight. Tobacco and a trace of the Rockerboy’s cologne. Fireworks on her skin as he brushed her bare waist, pushing up her shirt to trail sparks against the curve of her breasts. Everywhere and nowhere. 

V touched his chest, grasped his shoulders, wanting so badly to be closer. Wanting so badly for his presence to skim her thoughts. Wanting so badly for him to press against the very core of her.

Every atom of her ached for him. 

She sank her teeth into his lower lip, silently pleading for more. 

He tugged away with a throaty chuckle, “You’re always horny after killing something.” 

“You’re the one that kissed me first.” She complained, fisting his tattered sweater-front and pulling him back in. “I’m giving you a chance to screw me in public and you’re saying no?” 

He hummed, kissing her bruisingly. “Dunno if Kerry would bother bailing us out of jail. ‘Sides, you know we never only go for one round and I doubt the pigs will let us do more than that, no matter how preem the view.” 

“Pussy.” 

Johnny’s response pooled liquid heat deep within her. 

Yeah, this was going to be one hell of a birthday. 

_And,_ hopefully _, the first of many._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this wasn't what everyone was expecting?? I don't really know how to write cute flashforwards, especially since I'm still thinking of providing a sequel to this fic. 
> 
> But yeah! 
> 
> Let me know your final thoughts on the fic, whatever you want, or if anyone wants to be friends. (I don't know) 
> 
> Thank you so much for everything! All the support made me happy, grateful, and motivated :). I hope to see some of yall at the next one!
> 
> EDIT: I currently have a sequel out called “Blue Demon,” feel free to check it out :)


End file.
